The Scariest Place On Earth
by trypophobica
Summary: when Kendall sleeps, he sees times when the card deck was complete- sure, the Heart and the Club and the Spade were still here, but what about the Diamond? / james has been dead for five months now, his whereabouts completely unaccounted for the whole time. But apparently, death is a volatile thing.. / MINOR slash, whump, foul language, HORROR and [VERY]gory scenes ahead.
1. landing

**a/n:** hi guys! here's another multichap for you. this one's a james-centric horror. also, contrary to the description, it has _nothing to do with zombies_. i can't write about those, sorry, not my thing. anyway if you were expecting zombies turn back now because ew

this is in that weird style that i wrote 'pretty' in, sooo..

review or i'll cry and as always, enjoy the story xD

* * *

When Kendall sleeps, his dreams are laced with diamonds and crystals, twinkling things that litter the skies of his mind like a utopia. They're heavy with anamneses, recollections of a time when his card deck was complete- sure, he was the Heart and the Club and the Spade were still here, but what about the Diamond? You couldn't do much with a card deck if you didn't have four suits, and Kendall knows that Big Time Rush is no different. Hell, even before the band started, they were hopeless, absolutely useless as a complete set.

(Kendall misses the times when he had all 52 cards accounted for.)

**\**

Kendall rolls over in bed, pulling the covers up to his nose and ignoring the burning stuffy feeling that results. He blows out of his nose harshly, appreciating the feeling of his face melting under the heat. He looks up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, and he can't help but be saddened by the sight of them. He'd shared many a night with the guys under those pieces of radioactive plastic, and even though it's been a while since their last 'sleepover in the kames bedroom', that doesn't change how vivdly the memories hit him. His ears redden at the tips, recoiling at the revenant sound of adolescent laughter, of spilling popcorn and quiet breathing.

His fingers curl into the sheets.

The breath that's been collecting dust within the grottos of his lungs rushes out in one hasty, loud sigh. He hates this. All he wants is sleep and he can't even get _that_, not when his thoughts are toxicated, acidic with the past. He wants to just close his eyes, screw them tight and rip his soul from his body- that would be easier than the torture he's going through right now. Kendall shuts his eyes and grimaces as the light of a platinum-coated smile flashes brightly under his eyelids. His eyes unhood almost immediately, green saucers rimmed thick with insanity and he sits up straight.

He can't do this.

He can't just sit here and think about what once was, what could've been, what is **now**- and how _he can't change it. _He runs a hand over his face, and all but chokes himself to hold back a scream. He'd been able to keep his emotions at bay for this long, why was he breaking down now? He gulps loudly and suddenly hot tears stream down his face and he's whimpering _why, why, why, why, why?_ He can't stop them, he wants them gone, he doesn't like feeling so _weak, _so _vulnerable_ but he can't, he can't stop because he just fucking- God, fuck, James- he can't handle it, he can't handle this.

He reaches across the bed, trying his best not to look at the empty bed beside his and grabs his phone off the dresser. Clicking it on, he finds it increasingly harder to stop crying when he sees it's been five months- _to the day_- since they'd learned that James' private jet crashed somewhere off the coast of Malaysia. He'd been doing a solo tour(his dream, his dream that _killed him_, Kendall thought bitterly) and apparently the pilots had thought it was okay to fly through a tropical storm at 3 in the morning.

Because of their idiocy, Kendall was down a friend and his friends were down on their sanity. Logan and Carlos weren't taking to the death well. Neither of them spoke much anymore, Logan throwing himself into his talk show and Carlos was almost never home, always at the rock climbing center he'd built. Kendall doesn't understand how they could go on with their solo careers so easily, especially because the only reason they're solo is _because_ James is gone. Sure, the band had broken up, but that didn't mean their friendship had.

Either way, Kendall thinks it's ridiculous, but at the same time, he understands. Hell, he has a job of his own- since he was the unspoken leader of BTR, it was only fitting that Gustavo had him help Kelly with the producer's new guinea pig band, Smokey Tires. But that was only a part-time, and he honestly would rather be unemployed than work at all. However, he knows he owes a _lot_ to Gustavo(like making_ James' dream _come true), so the least he can do is return the favor.

Five months.

Without James. Without the constant bickering. Without the inside jokes and the teasing and the makeovers and the hugs(God, the _hugs_) and -

Kendall can't take this.

He gets out of bed and pads to the living room, turns the TV on as if the sound of static will block out the thoughts of James from his mind. Apparently the shorter half of the card deck had been having the same problems, because it's only mere seconds before he feels two tired teens dejectedly plop down beside him. He wraps an arm over each of their shoulders, not hurt when they don't lean into the touch. He knows they're probably just as deadbeat as he is, and if it weren't for those two, he'd probably not be doing a lot of moving himself.

The trio sits there, in silence, for what seems like hours. And it is. They sit and stare blankly at the static on the television with their thoughts running amok until the first rays of sunlight begin to filter through the blinds. Kendall finally moves, first time since 3am, and he looks at each of his friends- the only ones left in his group. He observes the bags under their eyes, the way the corners of their mouth droop ever so slightly and how Carlos' eyes were glassy and unfocused. He doesn't look, but he can feel the bumps in Logans spines dig into his arm as his thinner, lither chest rises and falls with each anxiety-riddled breath. It's been five torturous months, but they still feel it like it's the very first day.

"It's five months." Logan croaks out.

"To the day." Carlos adds, but neither of them move when they speak. Kendall doesn't know how to respond, so he just rubs what little of their bodies that stress and fear haven't eaten away.

He wishes James was still here(they all do).

But he isn't.

**\**

Logan gets up from bed quietly each morning, careful not to awaken Carlos(he never does). He makes his way over to the kitchen and opens the pantry, stares at the toast. He knows he should keep his strength up, he knows he's lost weight, he should eat, he should _eat_.

He closes the cupboard and walks away.

**\**

Logan gets tired of listening to white noise(after 5 hours?) and turns off the TV. He looks over at his friends, who are completely unfazed. They don't seem to care about much these days. Would they even care if he left?

He considers it, leaving. Just scraping together whatever money he's got saved up and _going_. Where? He doesn't know. Anywhere but here, where James' ghost haunts him daily. He never does leave, though. Never would. Because even though each reminder of James drives him a little more over the edge, every time he goes into the Kames bedroom and breathes in the scent of stale Cuda deoderant, he feels more at home than he would anywhere else.

Besides, he doesn't, he can't leave Carlos when he knows that the nightmares that infect his friend's dreams on a daily basis are always lurking in the shadows, can't leave Kendall to the agonizing, guilt-infested thoughts that intoxicate his mind and slurr his conscience every night. He can see his friends deteriorating, but he's going to fix them. He'll be the glue that holds them together, be their crutch until they can stand on their own again.

He has to.

Logan runs a hand through his hair. He sees Carlos flex his jaw, watches as the yawn he was trying to keep in escapes anyway. When was the last time he had the privelage of a good night's sleep? Kendall looks like he can barely focus, let alone take care of himself(or Carlos, or Logan). His tan friend hasn't done a stunt, told a joke- fuck, hasn't even _smiled_ for **five months**, despite his best efforts to make him do so.

Logan can't help feeling helpless, can he?

**\**

Carlos locks himself in the bathroom for ten minutes every day. He cries, leaks blood and tears onto porcelain counters and cracking terra cotta skin. They always mix. Salt-clear and red, leaving tracks in their wake. He puts the razor away and continues his day. This is it, he thinks. That's the last time.

(It never is.)

**\**

Carlos sighs and leans into Kendall, trying to suppress a yawn. He's tired, oh so tired but he can't sleep, how could he? He doesn't want to, even though he knows that sleep could be seven hours without agony, without flashbacks, memories, bitter nostalgia, because it could also be seven hours of obscurity, wandering through a charcoal labyrinth of his greatest fears whilst cinders fall from the sky.

The ashes burn under his feet.

_Help._ He can hear his voice, and it's so dreaded but so _welcome_. _Help me, please_. He always hears it. The same phrase every time, right after he sees the plane, just a second too late as it crashes into the ground and explodes upon impact. Cinders rain from the sky.

_You didn't save me. What kind of friend are you?_

I don't know, he would say. I tried, really, I did.

_Trying isn't enough, Carlos. You failed._

_Carlos, you are a failure._

_Carlos, you.._

_Carlos._

"Carlos?" He feels Kendall nudge his side and he looks up. "Are you okay?" Green eyes are dead ivy, crumbling and crackling. Carlos manages a weak smile.

"I'm fine." But all three of them know his words are emotional subterfuge. "Look, I'm going to go to the center, okay?"

"Carlos, it's six in the morning." Logan says, weary.

"I know, Logan." There's a razor-sharp edge to Carlos' voice that makes Logan cringe. Carlos takes a sharp breath and starts again. "I know, but Jenny asked me to come in early- we're running low on good equipment so we were going to go through some catalogues, make some orders."

"I see." Logan responds quietly, staring up at Carlos' 3/4 sleeve argyle shirt. "Have.. fun."

Carlos smiles small.

"I will."

**\**

Logan gets up moments after Carlos walks to the door.

"I have to go, too. I have to record for the show at ten, and I have a debriefing at eight." He walks off without a backward glance, but inside his mind is reeling. Carlos, Carlos. As the hispanic boy raises his hand to the doorknob, his sleeve rolls up and Logan sees paralell white, red and pink lines making their way up his arm. Tally marks. He's seen them before(hundreds&hundreds of times), but he's never had the courage to talk to him. Carlos pulls it down nonchalantly as he leaves, not realizing the slip-up, and Logan tries to walk off as quickly as possible after him without looking suspicious.

"Carlos! Carlos, wait." Carlos pauses, turning to look at Logan, eyes filled with questioning uncertainty.

"I- look." He reaches forward and grabs Carlos' wrist, watching as the boy visibly cringes. "I.." Carlos looks scared. Terrified. Logan considers not saying anything, just letting him be- any outlet of stress is a good one, after all, and it wouldn't help to bring more drama into their lives.

Logan pushes up Carlos' sleeve and runs a thumb over the cuts before walking ahead of him and calling back, "Be careful."

He hopes Carlos listens.

**\**

Logan comes home to a room filled with bloodred light, beams of purple and vermillion shining through the windows. He sees the still silhouette of Kendall, watches the rise and fall of his chest. Otherwise, he doesn't move. Sighing, Logan walks over.

"Hi," He says slowly.

"Hi." Kendall says, not moving or turning to look at him. Logan's brows furrow in concern. He'd seen days like this, days where Kendall's depressive, give-up personality took over his mind and body and rendered him nothing but a gargoyle. Logan wasn't sure whether or not Kendall was actually deppressed or if he was just taking longer to mourn than the other two. He worried so much for his friends, wanted to do something, _anything _to mitigate their afflictions.

(But he's just one, and what can one Logan do?)

"Did you go to work today?" Of course not, he thinks, looking to the iPhone sitting on the table. 14 missed calls. Gustavo, Kelly and his family, no doubt. Logan lets out an exasperated sigh and goes over to the phone, intending to unlock it and reassure his co-workers and female relatives that Kendall was, indeed, okay.

"No."

"Kendall, you can't just sit all day like this-"

"I'll do whatever I want." The words are sharp, and they pierce Logans heart, and Kendall knows it. Still, he doesn't move. Not an inch.

"Kendall, since Katie and your mom went back to Minnesota we need all the money we can get." Logan feels his face heat with anger, and he pinches the bridge of his nose to cool himself down. "Look, we're _all sad_ about-"

"No, you **aren't**!" Suddenly Kendall's up and Logan's back is against the wall, Kendall in his face. Logan looks up at him and he chokes on air, struggling to speak as Kendall's angry breath coats his face with warmth.

"No one is! All you guys are doing is throwing yourselves into work, you haven't even _thought _about him lately, have you? All you do is think about **money**, and go to **your job**, and _**console me**_!" Kendall's voice has a bitter tang to it, sardonic and crazed both at the same time. "Do you ever think about **James**, Logan?"

The brunette boy can only pant fearfully in response, his pupils blown wide and black. Kendall's inches from his face and his own pupis are pinpricks in the dull sunset. Logan bites his lip and Kendall's long, ragged breaths slowly even out.

"What do you _think_, **Logan**?"

**\**

"I think really want to kiss you." Logan breathes, so quietly Kendall isn't even sure he heard it. He looks down in surprise, into the lust-black eyes peering up at him through thick lashes, and his breath hitches. He sees Logan leaning up and almost reciprocates because maybe this is what he needs, maybe he needs to feel loved to forget about James- oh God, but it's _James _and how could he ever forget-

The phone rings.

Kendall spins away from Logan, snapped out of his trance, and stalks off to answer it. He's vaguely aware of Logan letting out an exhaggerated, loud sigh and he can't help but shake his head at what could've been. _Stupid idea_, he thinks. Using Logan to fill the hole that James' death left in his heart was absolutely despicable. He sighed and shook his head to clear it, then answered the phone.

**\**

Logan inhales deeply. _Let's don't let lust overtake us._ He exhales and shakes his head to clear it. He knew, he _knows_ he doesn't **like** Kendall- it was just a heat of the moment thing, thinking with his dick instead of his brain. He's not worried about that, or the possibility that it may not be true. What he _is_ worried about is how Kendall feels about it. Deciding there's no urgency to figure it out, he walks slowly towards the room Kendall had stalked off to with his phone and leaps nearly three feet in the air when he hears the sound of metal on tile.

Carlos walks in just in time to hear Kendall scream.

The pair dash off to where their blond friend is waiting with ragged breaths and pin-thin pupils. He looks like he's just seen a ghost.

"Kendall, what happened?" Carlos asks, staring at the blond in confusion. No response. Logan frowns and steps forward, noticing the crystalline tears forming in the wells of his leafy eyes.

"Kendall?"

"Guys, come on, we have to go to the hospital." He grabs both of them by the elbows(harshly) and drags them towards the door, swiping the car keys on the way and giving absolutely no explanation as to what was going on. Carlos winces as his cuts are completely smothered from the pressure, and Logan flashes him a sympathetic glance. (Their brown gazes don't meet.)

"Wait, **Kendall**, what's _going on_?" Kendall's face is one of determination, and just when the pair think their question is going to go without an answer, they get one:

"James showed up_."_

Logan stops in his tracks, forcing both Kendall and Carlos to nearly fall on their faces.

_James was alive?_

* * *

**a/n: **aw, poo. it sounded better in my head..

please review or follow or favourite or tell me or mail me a box of carrots if you liked it! i would appreciate the former three, though. ;P not that i don't like carrots, those things are very delicious.

thanks for reading, even if you hated it, i appreciate you getting this far!


	2. alarming

**a/n:** okay, so i write about the hospital in here. :3 i have no clue how hospitals work, but i **am** doing research on it as i write this and so i hope you'll forgive me for any mistakes. (i do know the basics though because my whole family works in medical this or medical that xP)

anyway, here it is!

* * *

Logan wonders what it's like to be lost at sea. He wonders what it would be like to be found, after years of uncertainty and feeling hopeless.

He thinks he has a pretty good idea of both.

**/**

Kendall's talking to a receptionist, figuring out what the hell is going on, while Logan fills out paperwork and Carlos paces the strip of tile between them. Ever innocent, he's not entirely sure what's going on- just that James apparently showed up a few hours ago, collapsed at the door of the hospital and was now in the PCU.

But.. how? He'd been told that a search party had gone looking for days, weeks and hadn't found James- and now he was being told that _James _had found _them_? He just didn't understand it. He looks over at Kendall, listens into the conversation.

"He's in room B16, only family can visit him right now, though. You all are brothers, correct?" Kendall nods, and Carlos looks away bitterly. Some brothers they were. He then shifts his gaze to Logan, who's filling out forms on the other side of the counter- feet away from Kendall. He wonders if something happened between them, and decides, yes, something definitely did. He could see it in the set of Logan's shoulders, the distracted focus in Kendall's eyes.

Logan's sending nervous glances wayward to Kendall, cosmic dust dances in his uneasy pupils. Carlos can't help but let his gaze linger on the starless-haired boy for a few more moments before looking back to Kendall, who stands up straight and turns to face them, tan skin turned ceramic.

"So?" He steps forward hopefully, and Kendall's lips are tight, a thin line, and he stalks off, just as Logan puts down the pen and hands the papers to the receptionist. Carlos follows quickly after Kendall, vaguely aware of Logan's presence trailing skittishly behind him.

"James is fine, apparently." Kendall says over his shoulder. "Or, well, he's _alive, _anyway. No details, though." Carlos' heart swells with fear and suddenly air is scarce, the space in his lungs collapses in on itself and his forehead is slick with moisture. Kendall makes a turn, steady steps on nimble feet, and eventually comes to an abrupt stop in front of an ivory door. The door is barely open, a crack of flourescent, artificial light shining through, piercing their retinas.

Carlos bounces on the balls of his feet, uncomfortable in the midst of his ignorance and unknowing, the anxiety of an impending broken body burning from the inside out. Kendall's valiance kicks in and he steps forward first to open the door. Carlos and Logan step up after him hesitantly, the paler of the two trailing behind slightly. It only takes seconds of muffled brightness for Carlos to realize that his eyes are closed.

It's not that bad, Carlos tells himself, it's not that bad(but really, who is he _kidding_?)

Slowly, he opens them.

It's worse than bad.

**/**

When Kendall was younger, him and James used to take turns on the tire swing in his backyard, pushing each other upupup until they could comb the galaxies through their toes.

They spent hours exploring the woods behind his old townhouse, splashing through murky creeks that reminded Kendall of sun-kissed skin. James would climb trees and look down into Kendall's eyes, blinding sunlight reflecting off his pupils, and Kendall would pull him down and they would _run, _run until their legs gave out atop obscured hills, bristling wildgrass and cattails tickling their bodies.

They'd stay out until the stars shined, and Kendall would admire the way James was so philosophical, an intelligent side to him that no one's eyes had seen but his.

And that's exactly how he liked it.

**/**

Logan hisses sharply, all of his breath exploding from between the cracks of ivory bridgework in one quick noise. It sounds of dissapointment- like a balloon deflating, _fzzzmmm_. He looks at the body in front of him and steps towards it, his pupils blowing wide with the shock, reflecting blood and bandages, alabaster and crushed clay.

James lays in the hospital bed, looking bruised but not broken. He has bandages all over his body, but not a single broken bone. His head is the only unbandaged body part that Logan can see, but James appears to have jaundice, his eyes wilting yellow and his face is covered in many, many, many a myraid of scratches, red ticks that completely throw Logan off. On his stomach is an especially bulky bandage with smaller bumps underneath, what look like staples. Standing straighter, Logan turns around and reads the clipboard hung up on the gaudy white wall. As he reads it, his face pales.

_Severly malnourished, lacking vitamin D especially. infected stab wound on lower abdomen, third degree burn on chest(appears to be purposely inflicted, possibly branded), multiple slash wounds on both arms, not infected, but possible tendon damage, _and worst of all: _Possible trauma, most likely will need Psychotherapy after physical recovery completes._

**Possible trauma.**

He runs a finger through his hair sharply, trying to distract himself from the white-hot moisture stabbing at his retinas- but it's _James_ and he's so _broken_ and it's been onetwothreefourfive **five** months since he's last seen him so of _course_ warm tears are pouring down his face and of _course_ he can barely breathe, of _course_ he's remembering every single fight he's had with James since the beginning of time, how he was never a good friend to him and how he always turned his back on him when he needed him mos-

"Hey, James." Carlos steps forward first. Logan looks over at Kendall and cringes when his gaze meets with an leaf green gaze. There's either thoughtfulness or understanding enscrawled in the greek fire, Logan can't tell. He looks away sharply as Carlos leans forward, his fingerpads grazing a particularily red bandage on James' chest. James' eyes fly open and he shudders, screams so loudly that Carlos darts back to hide behind Kendall with fear in his eyes. James' eyes are wild, large hazel pools rippling and quaking with hysteria in a way that only the truly disturbed could.

"**No**!" His pupils are darting back, forth, back, forth, crushed garnets and spilled cocaine. His chest heaves quickquickquickquick, bats flying in and out of chapped lips at the speed of sound. It's a panic attack, and Logan's there in a flash, not laying a single hand on him but calming him with gentle vocabulary. It's only minutes but they stretch infinitely, Kendall and Carlos witnessing their newfound friend at the edge of his sanity, the only sounds besides Logan's voice are the quick beepbeepbeep of James' heart monitor and their own thudding hearts, chipping pottery cutting their insides. Logan is reciting the date like a mantra now, telling James _you're here_, _you're here_ and it's working, the beeps are slowing and James' chest is evening out.

"James, you're okay." Logan

Brontide resounds outside, and the thunderclaps are powerful, cracking Logan's earthenware heart.

**/**

"Do you think my dad's up there?" Kendall asked, looking up at the star-smeared sky with the universe in his eyes. James shook his head, shooting the long-legged blonde a sidelong glance.

"Of course not. Your dad never left."

"James, he's dead. He has been for a long time, you know that." Long time, indeed- it'd been something like four years since Kendall's dad had lost the battle, sickness and failed chemotherapy having stolen his last breath. Kendall turns to look at James, the corners of his mouth turned down in hurt. James was supposed to be supportive, an auxiliary crony there for the purpose of lessening his pain.

"No, Kendall, you're wrong." James sat up straight, and Kendall remembers the way his skin flickered like embers. "Haven't you looked in a mirror lately? Your dad is still in **you**." His voice is strained with emotion, but then James blinks and suddenly, the ferocity evaporates into the night.

"You look just like him, Kendall." He says, his voice softened by the sound of fireflies and gentle wind. "He's not gone, he never will be." James reached forward and patted Kendall on the knee, and it was in moments like those that Kendall truly appreciated hazel-eyed companionship. It may have been awkwardly done, but Kendall appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

Their eyes misted with moisture, voice crackling like dying memories, Kendall and James talked for the rest of that night, not giving a single fuck about their curfew.

**/**

James calms down, staring at Logan in shock as sanity finally comes back to the surface for air. He closes his eyes for a beat and then lets his lashes flutter open lazily, hazel rings tired and rough and worn. Logan sits at the edge of James' bed, careful not to touch him, and instead tries for gentle conversation.

"Hi, James. Haven't seen you in a while." He chuckles halfheartedly despite himself and tries to ignore the loud sound of his heart fracturing further.

"Hi." James croaks, and he looks surprised at his own voice. "I'm sorry about.. that." He coughs uncomfortably and looks up at Logan slowly, apologetically. Logan only smiles back.

"I.. uh." Kendall steps forward hesitantly, Carlos clinging to him from behind. It's a sight that makes Logan's pupils flare with jealousy, envy, territorially.

"James. What happened? Where've you.. y'know.. gone off to?" The uncertainty and high-pitched tone of Kendall's voice is a fine combination, the sheer childishness of his stature alone is enough to make Logan's mouth turn up in a smirk and it does, his warm brown gaze asphyxiated on the long-legged blonde standing across the room to him. James balls the sheets up in his fists.

"Don't want to talk about it." He says frigidly, his body going stiff. Logan walks over to Kendall, who's about to protest, and murmurs "Don't push him, there's time." into his ear. Kendall sighs and nods.

"Whatever, as long as you're okay."

James smiles weakly and looks down to his hands awkwardly, fiddling with the IV needle implanted deep into his veins.

"Can we watch TV?" Carlos asks hopefully, already scrambling for the remote, and James chuckles and gives him the okay to turn it on. Logan can't help but think that even though this James is so similar to the one that he'd seen not half a month ago, he's also so _different_- what with his soft-spoken-ness, his softer curves, his new down-to-earth-ness. He can't understand it, but whatever had mauled him the way that it had, _whomever_ had done this to him, they had scarred him deeper than the skin- the damage wasn't just in crushed clay and crusted blood. He sighs outwardly and runs a hand over his face, pulling his fingerpads off his cheeks just in time to see the credits sequence of _iSnarly _flash on the screen. Smirking in amusement, he turns his head to look at Carlos, who is bouncing excitedly at the sight of it.

"I haven't seen this show in _forever_!" He grins excitedly, watching as the credits fade out with the promise of a canine-packed marathon to come after the commercials.

"Carlos, it's a kids show." Kendall deadpans, but Carlos is cute when he gets all excited over the little things, and it's hard not to smirk at cute things, much less cute Carlos'.

"Nu-uh," Carlos argues. "It's a _young adult_ show. And so what? Even if it **is** a kids show, you watch Pooh's Clues."

"Do **not**!" Kendall argues defensively, hackles bristling and Logan can't stop the laughter that explodes from his chest like fireworks.

"Do too! I know you're the one who put it on the DVR! _That_ and _Mickey Mouse Clubhouse_!" This initiates a very impressive slap-fight that Logan can only look onto with a smug expression, but his attention is diverted when he notices James stiffen profusely. Frowning, he's about to ask if the pretty boy is okay when his hazel gaze looks up directly at the TV and suddenly-

**/**

Carlos was going to end it all yesterday, had decided why be trapped in eternal nightmares, eternal screaming when you could just sleep forever? But a certain coal-eyed bandmate of his had changed that, reminded him that he wasn't alone. By the looks of the bags under his eyes and the slump in his step, Carlos figures Logan needs him more than the other way around, anyway. He know Logan's thought about it, ending it, leaving. But he can't, he _can't_. If Logan left, they'd fall apart more than they already had- a foursome isn't a foursome when it's just two, and as much as he loves Kendall he doesn't think he'd be able to stomach the lonliness of two ghosts dogging his every step.

If Logan left, who'd save them- save_ him _- when they needed it most?

**/**

_beepbeepbeepbeepbeep__**beep**__._

And they're back to base one, James' eyes are completely black and he's screaming _No, No, No_,_ Stop_, and tears are streaming down his face and he's thrashing and oh god this is worse than base one. The heart monitor is going out of control, erratic beeps pulsating discordantly. James thrashes so hard that the IV rips from his hand and an arc of blood rains down on Logan, encrusting his face with red. At this point they're being shoved out of the room in a confused daze, but Logan has enough time to look up at the television to see what triggered James' panic attack.

It was a commercial for Disneyland.

* * *

**a/n: **What's going on with James.. and what the _fuck _does Disney have to do with it? Ya'll'll know soon... ya'll. xP I hate this chapter! But its okay, cause its done, har har.

you know what's sad about this fic? :c i scared myself writing it. i'm such a dumbass argh xD it's not even at the scary parts yet but i drew out the main antagonists and I DO NOT DEAL WITH THIS WELL

oh well xD guys, if you like this fic, review! favourite! send me a PM! if you do the last one, you'll have a clingy friend for life! :D don'tcha like clingy friendddsss? :3

okay i'm done xD thank you for giving this story the time of day, and have a good day yourself. ^_^ until next time!


	3. unknowing

**a/n:** hi guys! sorry i haven't updated recently :C i've been doing a _lot_.. and there's a lot of stuff going on in egypt right now, so i'm a little bit too busy fearing for my life to write chapters. xP but here's one, so quit yer bitchin!

ahhhahh this was supposed to be finished by carlos' birthday but fuck it xD my own birthday is actually today! or it will be in about one hour anyway x) yay me!

aNYWAY READ THE CHAPTER(yes its short but you'll see why in the authors notes at the bottom)

* * *

Kendall buries his hands deeper in his pockets, pacing back and forth heplessly.

It's been an half hour or so since James' last panic attack but every time he trains his gaze onto him, Kendall feels curiosity set his heart on fire and has to resist bombarding James with questions otherwise he might set off another panic attack.

At the moment, James is wearing an oxygen mask on his features and he's fast asleep- recharging from the physical strain of the attack, Logan had said. He lets his gaze linger just a little bit longer on the gentle rise and fall of his chest before adamantly shaking his head.

As he passes them in his pacing triade, he looks down at Logan and Carlos, who're both staring back at him with sleepy eyes. He tries not to acknowledge Logan too much, but instead stares at the whiteness behind his spiky tendrils of hair.

As he drags his gaze away, it brushes over Logan's face, and like magnets, he finds the brown eyes riveting back at him. Memories of the awkward intimacy they had shared only hours ago was revived, beating at Kendall's heart like a first-degree explosive.

He still had absolutely no clue what to think of it, of the way that the void in his head filled with stars and imploding sparks when Logan's lips had moved, when they brushed arms by accident or when he reassured the blonde that _It's okay, this wasn't our fault, don't blame yourself_.

He sighed and rubbed a hand over his cheek, stopping his pacing just as a male nurse walked into the room, picking up the clipboard hanging on the door and reading it without even looking up first.

"Hello, Mr. Diamond, let's change your bandages, shall we?" He says as he walks fully inside, moccasins on tile, looking up to James just as he passed Kendall.

The green-eyed blonde watches helplessly as the nurse steps up, completely unfazed by James' unconscious state, and pulls the thin hospital gown hes wearing over his head and sets it aside, shuffling the thin blanket sitting on James' legs so that they cover his naked crotch. Kendall flinches as he sees the healing staples on his torso, but is completely unprepared for what comes next.

The tall man gently unravels James' biggest bandage from his chest, the razor-thin fabric coming off in graceful, bloody ribbons. Kendall watches as the nurse collects the damp cloth in his arms and when he goes off to dispose of them properly, Kendall sneaks a glance to James' bare, exposed chest.

He can't register the symbol that the impossible-to-ignore blackened skin is shaped like at first, he just sees crackling and crumbling ashes, but suddenly he realises what it is and everything makes sense- he freezes.

He can hear his name being called in the back of his mind, but it doesn't surface, doesn't register in his head. He can feel dull touches on his shoulder, is vaguely aware of both Logan and Carlos on either side of him. He hears Carlos speak.

Holy fucking_ shit, _Kendall hears him say.

**\**

"So where's your dad gonna go?" Carlos asks, with curiosity flaring bright and amber in his eyes. He looks up, past the arcs of celestial light as they reflect off James' hair and stares into tired hazel eyes.

"Dunno. Don't care." He mutters the last part. James shrugs and tucks his thumbs into his jeans pockets, slowing down his pace just barely. It's quiet from then on, no sounds except the crunch of marigold leaves underneath their rough soles. Carlos tugs at the shoulders of his too-big-tee shirt, calloused fingers awkwardly fumbling with the thin fabric.

He looks over to the taller boy and bites his lip, wondering how to console a friend after their parents divorce. But nothing works, he can't think, not when James looks tired enough to crumble in front of him, not in a situation like this. He's never been good at assuaging, not in the way that James needs him to be and it makes Carlos sad sometimes that he can't provide the emotional comfort for his friend that he clearly needs desperately.

Carlos' mind stays blank for the rest of the walk, the exasperation takes hold of his mouth and forcing him to eat his own words before they could even come out. He keeps sneaking glances at James, consoling phrases and empty sentences searing his tongue, but he doesn't speak, not once. Not about the divorce, not about the contrastingly bright pastel clouds, not about how the sun's starting to set and they should hurry before it gets dark. They walk wordlessly, and soon their feet are on gravel instead of autumn's spawn, the silence hollows out their ears and just when they get to James' house, Carlos knows he has to say something, _anything_ that comes to mind (because god he hates silence) as long as he at least made an _effort._ James beats him to it.

"Thanks, Los." Carlos' neck snaps up so quickly he gets whiplash. Rubbing his aching muscles, he asks, "For what?"

"Being there for me." James shrugs and walks inside the white-wash mansion, leaving the door wide open as an unspoken invitation.

Needless to say, Carlos accepts.

**\**

In branded, burned, scorched, blackened skin is the fourth letter of the alphabet, the fancy script of the capital letter contrasting heavily with it's own peeling, dead appearance. The worst part is that Carlos has seen that very same symbol somewhere before, bitter nostalgia curling up unwelcomely in the back of his mind.

He stares in paralyzed horror as the nurse coats the burn with some sort of cream, checks it for infection and then wraps it up, but only when the horrifying image is completely replaced by white bandages does Carlos move. He steps back from Kendall and Logan and the unconsious lump on the hospital bed and stares up at the TV, seeing his horrified facial expression reflected on the unlit screen.

"Guys.." Logan says slowly, but Carlos doesn't rip away his gaze from the dead monitor.

"I think that James didn't just 'get lost' for the past five months."

* * *

**a/n: **Guys so here's the thing. i was thinking and.. im really shitty at commitment, right? and writing chapters is hard. xD but i realised im really good at writing them very quickly to a certain length, then they get shitty. so basically you guys have two options: 1) i can update faster with smaller chapters and more cliffhangers ORRR 2) i can update slower with longer chapters and less cliffhangers.

this chapter is an example of one of those shorter posts.

which is it, then? if no one answers the question i'll do option one because it's less strenuous on me and there's a lot of bad shit going on in my life that would make it impossible basically for me to just sit down and write a 4k worded chapter in one sitting. v_v they'll probably be this short(like 900 ish words) at the worst and go to be as long as 3.5 or 4k if i get really passionate about it. ^u^

anyway, if you liek, review! if you dun like, flame! or review angrily. ^u^ thankies babus i love u all

(im off to party now BAIII)


	4. cracking

**a/n:** here's the next chapter! i wrote this quick-ish, ahah. not really. I'M SORRY

* * *

Logan steps onto the small white box gingerly, staring down at the small monitor with lackluster in his eyes.

The number's gone down by 10 since the last time he checked, which was something like a month ago. He sighs and steps off, going downstairs and towards the kitchen. He opens the fridge, pulls out a bottle of water, and drinks it on the way back up to the scale to step on it.

When both of his feet make contact with the box again, the number is two units higher than it was only minutes ago. He accepts the illusion of increased normalcy for no reason other than he wants nothing more than to do so.

He trails back downstairs and the vacancy in the room is now nonexistant, as he can hear the quiet buzz of hushed voices in the living room.

He runs a hand through his hair, crackling and popping, and sighs. He can hear his name, worry clear in Kendall's voice, defeat heavy in Carlos'. He can hear words like 'anorexic', 'skeleton', and 'suicide'.

Worry-filled, venomous words are all intertwined with his name like a braid of barbed wire- slicing his skin and overflowing acid at the seams. He wants to comfort them, tell them it's no big deal,_ he's just never hungry, __it's not on purpose_, but his feet are made of lead.

"I can't handle this anymore, Kendall." Carlos says, his voice thick with molten sadness.

"I know, bud. I hate it too. But it's not his fault. I-it's not. He's just too busy stressing about James."

"Too stressed to _eat_? Kendall, that's bullshit." He flinches at the rare occurence of Carlos using profanity. Logan's heart is heavy, cracking stone and crumbling alabaster, but he still doesn't move.

"Face it, he just doesn't **care** anymore, Kendall. And if he doesn't, then why should we?"

Logan sighs and turns around, stalking off into the starless solace of his room. The negative sound of his roommates' conversation fade into dullness with the other useless voices in his mind.

His stomach's full of water, but somehow, he still feels empty.

**/**

They're at James' room again, three days later, and they've made absolutely no progress with getting him to explain what happened. It's a lost cause, it seems, and the (relatively) mentally stable members of the band seem to be defeated- especially Logan, who was sitting in the corner of the room and staring at the other three with a scowl plastered on his face.

They sit silently for what seems like hours, but is really two minutes- and Kendall's already down to his last nerve.

"James, can you at least _try_ and tell us?!" He blurts out impatiently, ignoring the incredulous expression that Carlos gives him. James stares at Kendall with fear and shock in his eyes. Kendall gulps and steps back cautiously, fearing another panic attack, but continues his verbal onslaught.

"Look, James." He goes on, his voice softer and more patient. James looks on with blatant prudence shining in his eyes. "I can't.. _we_ can't handle not knowing." He gestures to Logan and Carlos. "I get if you can't tell us the details, but you at least have to tell us where you've been, right?" Kendall manages a sad smile.

James looks like he's about to have another panic attack. Kendall sucks in the breath he had been slowly letting out and gags a bit as the sudden air chokes him.

"Yeah, you're right." James says, slowly. "You're right. I'll tell you." He takes a deep inhalation and looks at the other three determinedly. "If I don't tell anyone, then I'll never feel better.. right?"

Kendall and Logan and Carlos eagerly nod.

"That's the spirit!" Carlos and Logan creep forward on the balls of their feet, skittering towards Kendall nonchalantly. "So..?"

James takes a deep breath.

**/**

Logan stares down at the toilet bowl feeling sick to his stomach. Half-digested wads of food are tainting the perfect white porcelain, and it's a very disturbing(yet very familiar) sight to see. He rubs a hand(the clean one) across his mouth and flicks the excess vomit into the toilet, then does the same to his other hand, except both saliva _and_ vomit fly into the bowl this time.

He swallows harshly, feeling the scratchy, raw sensation in the back of his throat. He stifles a pained groan and gets up off his knees, walking over towards the sink sluggishly. He washes his hands and watches as his sticky red insides run down the drain, crushed rubies and plastic diamonds. Logan washes his face and leaves the bathroom, careful not to stare at the mirror in fear of making eye contact with the ugly monster inside.

(If Carlos doesn't care, if _Kendall_ doesn't care, then neither does he.)

**/**

"It's not his fault, Carlos." Kendal gulps, takes a breath, feeling his heart bursting at the sound of Carlos being so broken. "I-It's not. He's just too busy stressing about James." Kendall says, completely unaware of Logan's presence hiding in the shadows. He can't do this, he can't give pep talks to his shattered friends when he's a wreck himself- it's hypocrisy, it's madness, its-

"Too stressed to _eat_? Kendall, that's _bullshit_." Kendall flinches at Carlos' use of profanity. "Face it, he just doesn't **care** anymore, Kendall. And if he doesn't, then _why should we_?" Carlos spits, venom springing from his voice straight into Kendall's bloodstream.

"**Because we're the **_**dream team**_**, Carlos**. Fulfilling each others dreams until the end, remember? But you know what the problem is, Carlos?"

"They don't _have dreams_ right now, because all they **can** have is _nightmares_." He says firmly, hoping his words are getting through to his conscience-shaken friend. If he's listening, Carlos is showing no sign of it. He just stares at the glassy surface of the table with an unreadable expression on his face. "Don't give up on them, Carlos." Kendall's voice drops an octave, he tries to speak in a way that would get through to his friend.

Carlos' lip twitches, but he doesn't move.

"**Not **when they need us more than ever, not ever at **all**." Carlos finally lifts his gaze from the table, staring up at Kendall with thinly rimmed, foggy eyes. Kendall's heart recoils from the intense depth in his friends' ecru irises.

"You're right, Kendall. We can't give up on James, we haven't given up on him. So we can't give up on Logan, either."

Maybe there's hope for their card deck yet.

**/**

(But Logan doesn't think so.)

* * *

**a/n: **woo-hoo! that's another chapter done. so, does anyone want to see any ships in the next chapter? there's already kogan-ish, but if anyone wants a different ship i'd be glad to make it happen. ;D as usual, if you liked **or** hated, go ahead and tell me! i'm still eagerly awaiting my first hate message.

also i think that was a cliffhanger, right? cause now your silly asses ain't gon' know what happened to james.. or at least, until the next chapter. ;)


	5. progressing

**a/n: **THIS ONE IS LONGER THAN USUAL YOU'RE WELCOME

* * *

James is standing on a ledge, a jutting peak that cusps the mauve horizon and sends sunlight refracting in all directions. The luminescence burns his retinas. He looks down and sees a void, brumous darkness filled with snapping fangs and red-rimmed gazes. It's a pool of memories, a sea of every single fear he's had since his plane crashed on the island. High-pitched snarls echoe in the shells of his ears.

His appetence is to back away, to run as fast as he can towards the light. He knows it's all illusion, that he can break away in a millisecond and phase out to the white light of the hospital room.

But he's fixed, he's stuck, he can't move- not with _those eyes_ staring into him.

/

"Uh.." James begins awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He's not one for stories, especially not the kind that involve recounting the most traumatizing experience of his life, and he's a little nervous(if 'a little' is a lot). "I- I don't know where to start." He says slowly, eyeballing his friends from the corners of his vision. They all held the same expression on their faces: curiosity and fear. Fear of what, James wasn't sure, but he takes a deep breath and feels his heart flip fearfully along with them.

"Start with the plane." Kendall says, slowly, looking like he's trying to hold himself together desperately.

"Okay." James looks into Kendalls eyes, surprised at how his charoal pupils were now burning cinders, ringed bright golden with curiosity and desperation. He reaches forward and gently strokes a hand down Kendall's leg once, twice, then retracts it. The flames blur.

"Well.. I mean.."

/

He's a failure. A fucking horrible, useless failure and he can't stand it, can't stand himself right now. His defenses are down, he's hiding in the bathroom, quiet sobbing piercing silence, and his arms are a red mess. _It's the last time_, he says again, firmly. _The last time._ But it's not, it never is, never will be, not as long as these scars keep littering his pottery skin. He can't keep cracking like this, feeling the binds inside his mind breaking apart and falling downdowndown into the brink of insanity.

James was supposed to be _okay_ when they found him, not to have a cursive 'D' on his chest or scarred disturbance wet on his eyes. He was supposed to be walking, talking, living without fear, without brands that were going to last him a lifetime.

But he wasn't, not okay, not even close. This wasn't the first time Carlos had felt helpless, and for once, he was sure it wasn't going to be the last.

He grits his teeth and presses the blade harder.

(This is the last time, he thinks. The last time he'll ever lie to himself.)

/

_"Fuck!"_

_James sits up as the profanity reaches his ears from where he sits in the only seat in his small, non-commercial airplane. He peers out the window cautiously, only enough to see the heart-stopping sight of the horizon sloped at a nearly vertical angle. The view out the window was split almost in perfect halves, the left side displaying the crop of messy, green-tinted trees and the other one the open sunset-purple sky. James immediately jerks back, gripping the armrest with white knuckles._

_He immediately unbuckles his seatbelt and, ever curious, stalks forward on shaky flooring towards the cockpit of the small plane. He opens the door and is surprised to see that all he can see through the main winshield of the plane is an expanse of dark, saturated colours- purples, reds, blues- but no greens. He walks forward more, ignoring the frantic screaming of the pilots as they try to sort out whatever is going on, and peeks over the edge. The horizon is just barely visible _far _lower than it should be, and it's only then that James realises that the plane is crashing._

_"We have to get some of the cargo into the cockpit, _**now**_!" He hears, and he immediately follows the frantic pilot to the back of the plane to help in the last-ditch, probably-futile effort they are making._

_(_Futile, indeed_, he remembers thinking bitterly.)_

_Despite their best efforts, they manage to cause the plane to go from doing a tail-flip into the tropical jungle to doing a nosedive into a the base of a mountain in about five minutes. As he presses himself to the very back of the aircaft best he can James blinks back tears and tries to ignore the memories dancing like white devils behind his eyelids, to ignore the words unsaid drilling holes in his ears, to try not to feel Kendall's taste on his lips. He squeezes his eyes shit and grits his teeth so hard he bleeds._

_His eyes stay closed until the very moment before the plane hits marbel-esque rock. They open just in time to see his life flash before his eyes in a shower of light green ashes and bright, fiery cloud._

_So this is what dying feels like._

/

"Whoa, what?! So it was the fucking _pilots_ faults you almost crashed?!" Kendall snarls, rolling up his sleeves and balling his fists angrily. Logan hates the way he gets protective over James, the way he treats him like a child and yet manages to put him up on a pedestal in the very same fucking instant. Logan can't stand it. He's jealous, he knows, but admitting to it doesn't make the feelings go away. He casts his gaze onto the ground where he won't see Kendall's affection burning plain and bright for the whole room to oggle at.

"No, no," Says James, as he waves his hand towards Kendall dismissively. "It was just an accident. I think.." Logan looks up in time to see James' expression change from a blank nothingness to a dark confusion, almost a wondering one.

"Anyway," Carlos pipes up. "So did you survive the crash?"

Logan, Kendall and James shoot the latino a hard look, the latter of the three adding in amusement, "No, Carlitos. I actually died. But I'm okay." Carlos pouts at James' sarcasm. At this, Logan and Kendall share a laugh, but stop when their arms brush. Logan jerks back at the embers that shock his spine, Kendall looks guiltily at the ground and that only makes Logan feel worse.

"Can you continue?" He says, trying not to look at Kendall out of the corner of his eye(but he does anyway).

"Sure.." James nods uncertainly.

**/**

_Hazel eyes flutter open, round pupils blown with confusion. They dart about wildly, uncomprehending, not sunderstanding their surroundings. James sits up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck disorientedly. He forces his eyes to open fully, feeling the inner corners throb painfully. He pinches the bridge of his nose and inhales deeply, trying to ignore the sticky feeling on his face and the voice in his head screaming _you're bleeding, stop crying, give up now, **just die here** _but he can't, because it's right, it has no reason to lie to him._

_Out here, he's probably good as dead, anyway._

**/**

Logan vomits into the toilet bowl again.

(The burning in his throat almost hurts more than their apathy.)

/

_Slowly, James looks around. Examines the damage. It's not as bad as he thought, but it's not exactly pleasant to see. The plane apparently cracked open like an egg upon impact against the mountain, dumping him and various other cabin items down onto the side of it. He supposed that gravity had worked it's magic, though, because the plane(what was left of it) was currently half-submersed in what looked like a marsh at the very base of the mountain. James looks beyond the damage, as far as the horizon._

_It seems like an endless pool of green, tree after tree after bush after vine, and the foliage is so dense that James can barely see farther than five feet into the jungle in front of him. How was he gonna find food? Where was he gonna sleep? What was he going to- __**ohgodtheplane**__._

_James, who's head immediately clears thanks to the helpful surge of adreanaline pulsating through him, immediately launches to his feet and stumbles down to the marsh as quickly as he can. It's difficult because his boots keep getting stuck in the mud, but eventually he makes it to the plane's remains and begins to rummage for anything he can. After ransacking the area from head to toe for a few minutes, James manages to find a survivor's kit that's [mostly] not fallen apart and the small suitcase he'd carried onto the plane(the other ones had been in the storage unit of the plane, but he didn't know how to open it, nor did he really want to try)._

_He drags the torn-up, burnt suitcase away from the marsh to the harder, denser soil of the jungle floor and rips it open with his hands. The fabric gives easily and exposes a painfully useless selection of clothes(damn, he wishes he'd brought his combat boots). James pulls out the best he can find: a leather jacket, a pair of cargo pants and a quick dry sports T-shirt. James isn't pleased with his past self's inability to think ahead, but figures he really doesn't have a choice, and slips off his filth-covered clothing to replace it with the more protective outfit._

_He then folds the dirty clothes up and sticks them into the top pocket of the small suitcase, then opens the survivor's kit(which is surprisingly heavy). The red-and-yellow bag is jam-packed with useful stuff: whistles, small flashlights, two small bottles of water, fishing line, a compass, a first-aid kit- hell, a fucking __**miniature chainsaw **__is hidden in the bottom of the bag. James practically screams in joy, throwing his useless suitcase aside and pulling the backpack on. He grins and hops to his feet, deciding to head up the mountain to see if he can spot anything from the peak. But before he even takes the first step, he hears it: at first it's slow, quiet, unharmonious, but it slowly escalates in both speed and pitch(despite this, the tempo only seems to increase in jitteryness). It takes him a few seconds to decipher what he's hearing, but when he does, he's very pleased._

_Carnival music._

_He stands straighter tenaciously, staggering a little bit as he does so, and walks, with purpose, to the edge of the jungle. He can't even see ten feet deep into it, it's so thick, but he'll be damned if he doesn't get to the source of that music. And he's not gonna be damned anytime soon. So he takes that first step, then a second, then another, slowly but surely hearing the discordant music escalate in volume as he gets closer to the heart of the jungle._

_(Maybe there's hope for him yet.)_

**/**

Carlos hasn't cut for three days now. After hearing James' story, he's tried to stay as far away from blades as possible, but he hadn't come to that decision until _after_ he'd carved an extremely haunting symbol into his wrist, one he's sure isn't going to be going away anytime soon. The image is carved amateurly at best, but even then, Carlos can't even stand to look at his arm without cringing, forgetting to breathe, choking, even.

He hates seeing those eyes. The sight of them makes him want to cut. But each time they pulsate pain through his whole arm, he can't help but look. Then it's the cycle all over again. But he's got it under control, he knows what to do, it's simple: don't look, be able to sleep. It's why he's taken to wearing a sweatband on his wrist.

Because nothing is easier than running from your problems, weather they're adopted from other people or your own demons completely.

* * *

**a/n**: i'm thinking about writing a one-shot series about big time rush as bunnies. is that weird? i wanna. BUNNY TIME RUSH FTW

ALSO GUYS

GUYS

GUYS

OH MY FUCKING GOSH **GUYS. **ONE OF MY EPIC FANFICTION FRIENDS, VALENTINEZOMBIE, IS LIKE.. FUCKING FANTASTIC. SHE MADE A REAAALLLYYY SWAG BANNER FOR SPOE(she also coined the amazing acronym omg) AND IT'S HERE AND LOOK HOW COOOOL ** .tumblr 12282de3f498ef5fa18d0c25a6262a9c/tumblr_msd0ihzJAc 1r0kxgoo1_500. png** ISNT IT FANTASTIC

she's great just great great great

okay so review if you liked it, hated it, etc etc

or just say something random

like POTATO!

or something ahah just talk to me! i love people so we should totes talk, oKAAY? I DONT BIIIIIIITE


	6. falling

**a/n:** this is early but i'm in a shit mood so i feel like projecting my sadness into this since i won't get this done until like next month unless i do

* * *

_The deeper James ventures into the jungle, with the soil melting beneath his feet, the darker it becomes._

**/**

Kendall wants to talk to James about those nights when they were rantipoles, when they shared the stars amongst each other and no one else- when they exchanged secrets unbeknowst to anyone but each other, when their bond went from good to great, and great to unbreakable. He wants to ask _do you feel it too?_ But he can't, he's absolutely adamant against being selfish when James had gone through what he had.

Besides, why would James listen? After hearing James' story, if he was James, he wouldn't even listen to anything that came out of his own mouth.. It would seem rather suspicious if he tried to ask about _emotions _when James' been through what he has. Kendall was like James in a good many ways, and one of them was that he questioned _everything_. So if someone came up to him after a trauma and tried to start an emotional waltz, he'd want no part of it, not at all.

**/**

_James is in pitch darkness now, the only things that he can see are the ringed pads of his hands in front of his face. Barely. Still, he continues to walk with the promise of finding civilization, finding the source of that music. As he walks, the music slowly, slowly, slowly changes, over time the cacophonous beats coming out haphazardly and eventually just sounding.. wrong._

_James thinks nothing of it- their equipment fucks up all the time when they're on tour, so cacophony is nothing new. But when the music cuts off, James is worried. Scared. Sure, he's got the survivor pack on his back, but why use it if he can still see.. at least a little? James shakes his head dismissively and continues on, letting the hollow silence ringing in his ears to lead him on into darkness._

_He hopes he finds something, anything soon._

_(Be careful what you wish for.)_

**/**

"Dude!" Carlos gawps, his eyes rendered wide as saucers. "Why didn't you just call someone?" James stiffens, and Kendall promptly swats Carlos on the head.

"Jungles don't have cell towers, dumbass." He sneers, and Carlos whines playfully, shuffling closer to Logan and pressing himself up against the other boy like a scared cat. Logan shifts uncomfortably on the leather seat, his gaze flickering like premature fireworks, and scuttles up against the wall, breaking the contact. He looks over to Kendall, whose oblivious gaze is intent with worry on the poor little trauma victim in the bed before them.

James relaxes, laughing a little, and says, "I actually did try to use it, once. Once I got to the fairgrounds-"

"Wait, the what?!"

"Stop _interrupting him_ and maybe he'll tell us! Damn, Carlos, it's not like this is easy for him." Ugh, Logan wanted to wipe that glower off of Kendall's face. With his own face. Instead, he looks down and ignores the fact that his cheeks are melting blood all over him.

**/**

_He can see lights. __**Lights**__. People! James picks up the pace, breaking into a wholesome run. The trees slip by quicker and quicker and begin to thin out, and the wind doesn't stop nagging his hair until he's completely out of breath. The trees are completely gone now and he can see again- or at least, sort of._

_The moon's barely bigger than a pinhead in the sky, casting a useless, haunting glow upon everything around him. It's dark, but it's definitely better than being under those treetops, feeling suffocated, directionless, lost.. James shakes his head, tells himself he's fine now. He looks around for the source of the lights, excited to find out where they were coming from._

_He doesn't see them._

_"Fuck! No, no, no, no!" He shrills, spinning in circles and walking backwards hysterically, desperately. He feels something warm and hard against his back and stiffens._

**/**

It's not like Kendall doesn't have enough to fret about himself: he's still trying to deciper what the fuck is going on with him and Logan. Even if James _was_ willing to listen to Kendall's confessions or less likely but more hopefully _return_ the feelings, he'd still have Logan to worry over. Kendall's never been good at reading him, he's not that great with seeing into darkness, and that's why he draws a complete blank when he stares into Logan's eyes(no matter how much they shine).

He figures it's best to just make like James and induratize himself for now.

**/**

_James screams, turning around quickly and finding himself face-to-face with a sign._

_It's clearly been around a long, long time, peeling cedar wood stained dark from acid rain and muddy floodwater. The sign is covered in splinters, sharp little things that remind James of a frightened porcupine. There's writing on it, it's English, he knows, but there are red scuff marks on top of the black, messy print in the worst places._

_All he can make out are the words "we won"._

**/**

Carlos cut over _it's_ face. He couldn't handle it. Now his arm is just a collection of messy white scars, tally marks of every time he just wasn't strong enough.

He'll get better, though. For James- no. For Logan.

Yes, Carlos decides. He'll do it for Logan. After all, how hard could it be to _not_ do something?

(Probaby more so than it sounds, but for Logan, he'd do a whole lot of hard things.)

/

J_ames steps back from the sign, utterly horrified by the grotesque appearance of it, and freezes. "Holy shit." He shakes his head vigorously because he's hallucinating, he's insane, off his rocker, he knows he is, because there's no way that's actually there, there is not a disney park in front of him- hell, there's __**no way**__ there's a Disney park in the middle of the jungle. There are only Disney parks in America and Paris, aren't there?_

_This is improbable, fucking impossible. He's a first-class celebrity, he would've been the first to know if Disney just out of nowhere decided to build a park as far from civilization as possible. He stumbles backwards even more, rubbing his eyes to make sure he's actually looking at a delipadated, abandoned Disney park- and the unmistakeable cursive lettering spanned across the large, imperial-like gate behind the sign say otherwise._

_He almost still thinks he's hallucinating, even when he steps forward to touch the black-cold metal bars of the tall gate, even when he runs his fingers over the thick chain bolting the gate shut, even when he crumbles rust residue under his fingertips- there's no way this is real._

_(But it is, he knows it is- he just wonders if it's too good to be true.)_

_James peers between the bars of the amusement park and sees no sign of life, but this is where the music came from, isn't it, so why wouldn't there be life here? He steps back and observes the fat rings of the protective chain. How was he supposed to get to civilization if he couldn't even get inside the park to begin with? Carlos' words ring in his head, strong and clear: Just place your hands between the cylinder and then central housing, then hit it with a sledgehammer._

_James' stomach twists at the memory, but he's glad it came to him. Now, he doesn't have a sledgehammer, but he can probably improvise.._

_Looking around, James sees something that looks like a part of a statue laying in the soil a few meters away. He grabs it and, with all his might, slams it down against the lock of the chain. For an ageless piece of rusted metal, it's pretty strong, and despite James' best efforts, he accepts the fact that he just got beat by a small piece of metal. He also accepts that there's only two other options if he wants to get in: climb the gate, or dig under it._

_He wonders how badly he wants to get in there._

**/**

Carlos can clearly see that Logan and Kendall are drifting apart. He wonders what happened, question's always on the tip of his tongue(he _is_ the curious one), but he never dares open his mouth.

(Not because he's scared of asking, but because he's scared of being answered.)

**/**

_James decides the only choice that he really has is to die trying to survive or to die out of fear of dirty hair. He figures he'd rather have dirt buried in his hair then be buried himself and sets to work climbing the gate. It's slow, painful and tedious(he fell off it more times than he has fingers), but eventually he maneuvers himself to the top of the gate and carefully lifts himself over the pointed peaks perched on it, careful not to fall on them because damn it, he's James Diamond, not James Shish Kabob._

_Currently he's clinging to the top of the gate and staring down at the other side, and God, it's amazing. Even though nothing is even remotely light and all of the rides are completely off and if anything, buried under inches of mold, James' heart doubles in size at the sight of it, squeezing his lungs with awe and taking his breath away. He can see so many familiar rides and characters down there that he can't help but beam excitedly. He readjusts his backpack and jumps nimbly down to the ground, his feet quietly making a dull sound against the soil._

_The entire park explodes- rides turn on and run faster than normal, with teacups spinning dangerously fast and airplane rides turning into a chromatic, doughnut-shaped blur in the sky; lights turn on at their brightest capacities, blinding James from all angles; the music- the music- the music- it sounds like the soundtrack to 'Steamboat Willie'- except it's repetetive, skips over notes over notes and plays backwards and discordantly on occasion. It seems like the park is alive, trying to communicate with him. As fast as the flare of terrifying overload comes, it's gone, and all rides and lights return to normal speeds and brightnesses._

_James presses himself against the gate in fear, not wanting to move a single muscle in fear of angering- what, the park? He was being ridiculous. Afraid of a park? That was absolute bull. He probably just landed on a switch or something and turned on everything, no biggie. He forces himself to unplaster his sweat-slicked, shaking body from the cool metal gate and take a few steps. It's safe, he knows, but he can't help the feeling of his heart crawling into his mouth farther and farther, stealing his saliva and swelling up fear in the back of his throat._

_(It's just a __**park**__, James.)_

**/**

Logan spends most of his days sleeping now, everlastingly exhausted from forcing apathy, ignoring his 'friends' and studying. He doesn't mind it too much, though- sleep, though never plagued with false darkness or self-concocted pain, was never exactly easy to achieve for him. Nowadays? He's out like a light when his head hits his pillow.

Of course Kendall and Carlos had tried to talk to him, fill his head with lies like _We need you, don't starve_ and _We love you_(pfft.)_, please eat_, but Logan knows better- he knows what he heard. He's a fucking genius, he's fucking _Logan Mitchell_, who are they trying to fool? Certainly not the one with a 4.0, the one who aces every test and knows things by heart after only reading them twice. He is an intellect, that's what he is, and he doesn't need their petty fabrications to distract himself.

(Eventually, Carlos and Kendall stopped trying.)

They were in the way, his friends. In the way of him achieving his full potential, being the best he could be. Before, he'd _cared_ too much. He'd _tried_ too hard. All he had gotten for his efforts? Walked over, used and taken advantage of. He'd always given them the benefit of the doubt, hoped they were just needy, but once he'd heard the words actually come out of Carlos' mouth, he was sure.

They didn't care.

So he wasn't going to either. He hasn't seen the pale white lines turn to thick red strokes on Carlos' wrists, the glossed charcoal under his eyes, the slump in his step and the way his voice has turned into an eternal yawn; hasn't noticed the way Kendall's eyes have turned to ash, the way he barely talks anymore, spends all his time with James(_ugh_), how he's never around- how un-Kendall-ishly detached and disloyal he's being. Logan doesn't see it.

(No one can see with a mask on.)

**/**

_James has been walking around the park for a few hours now, abusing the privelage of being in a fully-operative Disneyland by himself. The initial uneasiness that the power-malfunction of the park had caused him faded quickly, replaced with giddy, child-like excitement because honestly it's a Disney park- is it even physically possible to be scared when you're riding Dumbo?_

_Of course, the novelty of the rides faded quickly, but the childish happiness inside him hasn't yet. He's spent the past half hour or so raiding the food stands' pantries and fridges, seeing if there's any forgotten food he can salvage. He did find some- lots of it: turkey legs, popcorn, bagged cotton candy- hell, he even found a freezer full of meat in the back of one of the resturaunts._

_The meat seemed relatively fresh, so he had a strip of it dangling from a tree nearby while he was successfully attempting to make a fire. All it took was one waterproof match and a few torn-up brochures he'd found, and he had a fire. The flames lap at the darkness hungrily, cackling and crackling red-hot into the night. James grabs the meat off the branch and skewers it on a twig, pretending it's a marshmallow and not a piece of dead animal that is however months old._

_He raises it above the pit, and range tendrils of fire burn the rawness out of the meat, sending sweet-smelling smoke into the air and making James' stomach rumble. He watches as the edges crumble into sooty brownness, and he lifts it up to his mouth and chomps down on it. He's pretty sure it's not pig meat, but it's taste is quite akin to bacon, although it has more of a caramel-ish aftertaste to it. Shrugging thoughtfully, he gets up and stomps out the fire, pulling the survival pack onto his bag as he does so._

_James' vision blackens at the edges, kaleidoscopic smudges of darkness bubbling in the corners of his eyes. He shakes his head vehemently to try and chase away the disturbance, but the transition from intense orange light to nighttime jungle was a little intense for his retinas, and he staggers forward blindly, looking for something to lean on with what little vision he still has. He feels a plastic object in front of him and leans against it as he desperately rubs the dizziness out of his eyes._

_When his vision clears, when the black spots in his sight crawl away with their tail between his legs, he slowly pulls away from the object he's pressed up against and turns to look at it. It's some sort of telephone booth, he realises, but it's got writing on the top of it in some sort of foreign language. James recognizes it as Indonesian or Malay, he's not sure, but who gives a shit because there's a fucking phone booth **right there**! James immediately forces open the door, which opens with an ear-piercing screech and steps inside. He looks down at the sleek black telephone headset, notices a red smudge on it's glossy surface, notices the way the smudge looks vaguely like a fingerprint, realises what the smudge is, picks up the phone to inspect it closely and fucking freezes when he sees a distortedly familiar face being reflected on the plastic, it's there, it was there, for just seconds but damn it it was there and James can't breathe, he wants to turn around but he can't he won't, but God, he has to, and he starts to, but-_

_Suddenly, the floor is swallowing him whole, the light is rushing out of his body, tugging at his hair, he is velocity, and as he falls the darkness cackles at him. You fell for it, it mocks._

_He's going down, down, down, not enough time to even remember to panic-_

_anditallgoes**black**._

* * *

**a/n: **i'm very good at making love triangles, aren't i? :D well, now you know where the music is coming from, but i left ya'll with a cliffhanger again(BOOO)! still, i wrote this pretty damn quickly. i don't know how long it's gonna be until i post this, but i finished it the day after i uploaded chapter 5.

also like i said, i'm sort of scaring myself with this story so i may not finish it. xD if i dont, i'll make a chapter explaining the rest of the plot because i'm a huge pussy and the antagonists/james-hurting-things are basically taken out of the scariest nightmare/hallucination ive ever had so whoop. if i don't finish it, though, that would make this the last chapter, because you find out who the james hurties are in the following one, or so i planned. that's not an 100% sure thing though, because i'd probably force myself to try first, you know? xD i'll probably finish it, don't worry, but i'm just warning you guys. o.O

until next time, fanfiction!


	7. shocking

**a/n: **as far as time goes, i probably should have pointed out this story is non-linear.

if you havent figured that out by now then i detest thee

just kidding. but anyway on a similar note, everything happening in the hospital is within a four day period, and everything in James' flashback is happening in about.. well, you're at the next day right now, but obviously everything that happened to him is going to span throughout a five month period. does that make sense? idk sorry ya'lls

i also realised that i type my author's notes like a diseased chimp with ADHD so i'm trying to do better on that. xD i probably will not try too hard, though.

also **i did it i wrote the chapter fuq u all ok**

* * *

_It's dark. So, very dark._

_He's blind, absolutely sightless and he's terrified._

_He's laying down, he thinks, on some kind of metal or concrete block- he's not sure. He'd feel at the material, but when he tries to move, he's restricted, only managing to make his bonds rub at his wrists and ankles with the effort. Why is he bolted down? What the fuck __**happened**__? He remembers falling, falling down some sort of tunnel(maybe?) and landing on something really hard.. There was some sort of sound.. a very disturbing sound.. but what was it, what was it? James can't remember._

_Then he hears it._

**/**

"God, Kendall, it was _horrible_," James sobs hysterically into Kendall's shoulder, the beeps of the pulse monitor accelerate rapidly and Kendall's heart jumps into his throat. Desperately, he grapples at James' back with his hands, awkwardly attempting anything he can to calm James down before anything bad happens. He feels the moisture of James' breakdown soak his sleeve, but he doesn't particularily care that much about his clothing, anyway.

"James, it's okay." He says softly into auburn hair, feeling strings of it run along his face, leaving burns in their wake.

They're all back in the hospital room, Logan and Carlos are watching in discomfort(and in Logan's case, envy) as James bleeds out into Kendall, who was the first one(maybe the only one, even) to want to comfort the panicking brunet.

"The laughing-" James chokes out, pulling away from Kendall to expose his wide, sightless eyes. Kendall goes rigid with worry and uncertainty, afraid James is about to have mania. "The _laughing_, make it _stop_!" He buries himself back into Kendall's shoulders, his larger body racking with sobs. "Please.." Kendall hoods his eyes and tries to relax, inoutinout and he rubs James back as comfortingly as he can, closing his own eyes and breathing rythmatically.

(Logan stares at the ground, and Carlos stares at Logan.)

**/**

_James has been slipping in and out of consciousness for the past two hours now, seeing nothing but darkness each time he opened his eyes. He hasn't heard the laughing for two hours now, but that doesn't change the feeling of absolute terror that he has felt since he woke up the first time. For some reason, his neck hurts a lot, and he can't move his head all that much._

_He gulps, feeling the lump in his throat ache as his adams apple bobbed against it. He nervously struggled against his bonds, writhing against the slick leather holding his limbs down, and winced as the abrasion irritated the raw skin of his wrists._

_He felt tears running down his face, snot down the bridge of his lip, but he didn't care- all he cared about was the fact that he was going to fucking die.. or worse. He already knew it was going to happen, all he wanted now was for it to just happen._

_"Look," He chokes out, past tears, past panic, past the impending psychosis scorching him from the neck up- "I don't know what you want, but whatever you want to do with me, just __**do it **__already!" He desperately screams the end of the sentence, feeling the hot wetness on his face increase quickly. His gaze darts left, right, left, right speedily, but his vision never changes, the darkness doesn't lift._

_But then, it does._

_It's slow, painfully, horribly slow, but it's happening, James realises, the room is lightening ever so slowly and as James' eyes adjust to the low yellow glow being cast in the room, he gets more and more terrified, feeling the blood throbbing and roaring in his ears and the rapid growing and shrinking of his pupils. Dread rises up in his heart, floats light as the dead to the top of his chest and then presses down on his lungs._

_It takes hours, but eventually the room is glowing with a pale yellow light- still not bright enough for James to see everything(not that he even _wants_ to), but he can see enough.. except for the fact that his eyes are screwed shut in terror. The voice in his head whispers,_ open your eyes, James, **open them** _but he doesn't know if he can. But he __**has**__ to, he does, and just the thought of opening them makes him shake uncontrollably, rubbing his wrists bloody as he trembles in the bonds._

_Slowly, James opens his eyes-_

**/**

"Carlos!" Kendall's frantic cry resounds through the small apartment, and Carlos snaps to attention imediately, the episode of iSnarly he had been watching completely forgotten. He races into to the Kames bedroom, only to find that his friend was completely intact on his bed, watching something on his laptop. Frowning in annoyance, Carlos strides over to Kendall and pops him in the back of the head. His blonde friend shrieks in surprise and pain and recoils, staring daggers at the latino.

"The hell was that for, bro?"

"You worried me for nothing, you ass!" Kendall rolls his eyes dismissively, causing Carlos to flinch, and turns the laptop around so that it's facing him.

"Look," He says. "I've been searching for anything I could find about the park James must have gone to, but everything on Google was blocked. I used like.. every single fucking search engine _ever_, and it took me three hours, but I found this." Kendall looks both incredibly proud of himself and extremely upset, and Carlos is uneasy when he looks down at the bright laptop screen. It looks like an old article for a local Malaysian newspaper or something. Carlos' eyes go wide as he reads the title.

**"DISNEY PARK CONSTRUCTION HALTED AFTER LOCALS REBELLION KILLS MASCOT"**

**/**

Logan remembers when they first moved to LA, when everything was novelty; the shining lights, the picture-perfect sunsets, the shining stars that made their presences known wherever they went. It wasn't long, after all, before they became stars themselves, and the freshness of California went away, faded and white-washed. It wasn't new anymore, it wasn't an everlasting thrill anymore. But he remembers the time when it was, because it was the best fucking time of his life.

He remembers when the four of them would drive to the edge of the city, out to a remote clearing hidden in the middle of the woods. They'd sit in dead grass and stare up at the stars, wondering but never knowing, thinking but never caring. They'd talk for hours on end about nothing, sweet nothing, then return to their dormitory at midnight with dead feet, shuffle to bed tiredly and pass out until the next morning. It was great, the carefree live.

(Care-free, he thinks. That's all he should be.)

* * *

**a/n:** i think kendall is going to be the whore of the group. xD KIDDING, KIDDING. wow im not doing a good job at the whole 'don't act like a two year old in your authors note' thing, am i? OH FUCKING WELL I DO WHAT I WANT THIS IS MY ACCOUNT

look at me doing a double update ya'll should be mother effing proud. also i procrastinated with making the antagonists appear so WOO but i **promise** they're coming next chapter.. which i may not post for a while just to kill you guys with suspense. ^u^ i love you all! lol, bye. review if you hated or liked it idgaaaf anymore

(i just realised how short this is sorry)


	8. revealing

**a/n:** the moment you all have been waiting for! this was horrible to write.. so... so.. horrible.. but ya'll deserve it!

and another thing, i updated my story 'pretty' which is now called 'terrible things' after the mayday parade song.. can ya'll go check that out for me, too? please? i worked hard on it. ;^;

and finally.. important: guys i just beta'd a story for my awesome british friend Laila, who writes incredibly well! please do go look her up. :3 her username is **WritingForFunIsWhatIDo**. It's a ridiculous name[KIDDING, KIDDING] but her story is great! and it's _KAAAAAMESSSS._

okay, time for the scary part /trembles

ready? leggo.

* * *

Right before James had started his solo tour, before he'd gone MIA for five months, Logan had taken him out, just the two of them, to celebrate. They'd gone to all of James' favourite places, done all of his favourite things: the day had been an ethereal rush, blood roaring in their ears the entire time; the night had been one spent on the moon, with stars scattered beneath their feet and the galaxy all around them.

Off the peak of the highest bridge in LA they'd jumped together, nothing but the trust in a bungee chord keeping them from falling into oncoming traffic. They'd gone jet sking the same afternoon, the whole ride being a game to see who could push the other off first(James won).

They'd gone motorcycling through the busy night-time streets, the wind howling through them and sending birds flying out of the hollows in their hearts. Their night shared had been that of an adrenaline junkie's dream, exhiliration and fast heartbeats staying with them until the morning; and a leisure-a-holic's paradise, the rest of the evening after the excitement spent lounged on the Palmwoods roof, where they slept until the next day.

Logan rolls over in bed and pulls the covers over his head. He hated memories, especially happy ones.

(All they did was remind him of how bad things were now.)

**/**

The cuts are healing. Slowly, but they are. Carlos is glad to see them go, he watches with intent intrest and impatience as the marks of the past slowly fade, the drawings, scribbles and words in white dissappearing with naught a trace. He's glad they're leaving, honestly, because even when he cut over _it_, he could still see it under the messy scars, in his mind's eye. Nothing that he wanted to deal with. Not to mention the other issue that made him glad the cuts were fading, an issue which was short and stocky and silent and always solitary, an issue that was _deadbeat_ on two legs: Logan.

No matter how hard he tried, Carlos just couldn't shake out the way Logan had grabbed his arm the day they found James, couldn't erase it from his mind. Every time he saw his paler roommate, his arm would burn and spark and cinder and just _melt_ in the exact same spots Logan touched him, fingerprints glowing bright orange on his clay skin. He wants to stop, not for him, but for Logan. Logan's his reason for doing a lot of things, and most of them are pretty productive. Like now, for example.

Carlos is in the bathroom, blade in hand. He twirls it delicately in his fingerpads, admiring the way the bathroom light reflected off of it's silver edge, the sharp corners of the triangular blade and the puzzle-piece-like circular hole in the center of it. He presses the corner against his thumb, applies pressure, pressure, and pulls away in time to watch the blood bead up in his rough palm skin with curiosity. He considers cutting again- after all, it's a quick fix, an instant release, his crack, his savior. (But then again, so's Logan.)

He has to stand on his tiptoes to do it, but Carlos puts his razor on the highest shelf in the bathroom, where he can't reach it.

(He hopes it stays there, far away from him and far away from Logan.)

**/**

_James opens his eyes.. then sees it._

_It's unclear at first, just a tall, stone-still silhouette painted black in the dim light, but as the light gets more and more bright over the next few hours, James can slowly start to make out a few features. He can tell it's black, bipedal, and has a slight hunch at the top of it's body. He can see two buldges at the top of the shape, twin circles that fan out like elephant ears. James blinks slowly, waiting for his vision to adjust in the dark, tries to figure out what he's looking at._

_(but he can't tell, he doesn't know, and if there's anything James is afraid of, it's the unknown.)_

_"Oh my God." James breathes, because he can't decipher what it is and it's__**ohmygoditsmoving**__, it's slowly walking towards him and James is fixated with fear, he can't move, even if the bonds weren't there, he'd still be entirely paralyzed. As it comes closer, the light finally raises to the point where he can see it's features and- no way._

_It's got a snout, a pointed thing that's dripping blood and saliva and has a sickly blue-purple tongue curling into itself; multiple rows of sharp teeth curled into a sadistic, rusty smile. It's got two wide, round, saucer-like eyes, pools of green with thick bloody rims and pinprick pupils; there's red cracks in the white scleras that aren't unlike an epicenter in an earthquake; the eyes themselves are crusted with something rust-coloured and sandy._

_It's tall, it's lean, and as it moves towards him, James can't help but notice the way it's legs bend both ways, the way it's body sways slightly to the right with each step, the way it's leaning slightly backwards as it walks, looking down at him from it's snout. With each stumbling step it takes, James' eyes grow a little bit wider. No fucking way, he's thinking, because this is impossible._

_There is __**no way**__ that it's Mickey Mouse coming towards him, not with the teeth of a shark, the lope of the contaminated, the wide-eyed stare of an addict. This is blasphemy, impossibility- but it's there, it's real, it's his childhood shattering before his eyes._

_The creature that's so familiar and yet so distorted takes an abrupt halt directly in front of James, who's finding it hard to even remember to breathe. He waits in suspense as the figure looks down at him, mouth wide in an infinite-fanged grin; eyes round and perfectly circular, disturbed. His heart is roaring in his ears and his adrenaline levels are going through the roof, his mouth is dry and he's waiting for the anthromorphic horror before him to say something, anything._

_(It doesn't.)_

_Without breaking eye contact, it's pulling a pair of clawed, gloved hands out from behind it's back and it's holding something glowing orange in one hand and something sharp in the other. James tries to scream, but all that comes out is a squeaking sound that makes him choke on his own spit._

_"What are you going to do to me?" He asks, his voice not even reaching a whisper. But if the monster hears him, he doesn't know, because if it does, it doesn't awknowledge it- it simply stabs him in the stomach and twists._

_(and as he lays there, burning agony ripping from his throat, James realises that there are worse things out there than he could have ever imagined.)_

**/**

If Logan and Carlos had anything in common, it was that they didn't ask for help. Wait, that sentence needs rephrasing. More accurrately speaking, they didn't ask for help with the big things, the monsters in their heads, because of their pride. Sure, they wanted it, but there was always that 'I can handle myself', overly independent complex about them, not to mention the fear of bothering someone with their problems. So Carlos stayed silent, and Logan stayed away.

(No more.)

Carlos is in his room, tossing a ball against the wall and catching it when it boomerangs back to him. He's been repeating this simple action for hours, now, his attention to the real world completely blanked out, with nothing but an unfocused stare to show for it. He's thinking, remembering memories of a time when him and Logan were still best friends, when he hadn't done something(he didn't even know what it was) wrong, when they still talked and laughed and hugged and shared a room.

Carlos grasps the ball in his hand, rubbing his finger over the flourescent green fuzz covering it, and looks to the floor, knowing Logan is fast asleep on the couch downstairs. He takes a sharp breath and sighs, while the hot air rushes out of him, he can feel his heart deflating.

He doesn't even know what he did wrong, he thinks, drooping towards the floor. So why should he suffer?

He shouldn't!

Carlos stands up determinedly and struts out the room, dropping the ball behind him. He stomps downstairs and sits on Logan, feeling a bony chest shudder along with an annoyed groan from underneath him. Knowing he's going to be needing a (very) cold shower later, Carlos shuffles a little bit on top of Logan, crossing his legs.

"Carlos, you have three seconds to get off of me before-"

"Before what?" Carlos snarls, because he's seen this side of Logan before- well, maybe not, but he knows Logan well enough to realise that he's just masking his hurt with anger and a facade of uncaringness. It's a very annoying facade, Carlos thinks, and he's going to find out what he did to hurt Logan before Logan can hurt himself-

Carlos' gaze darts down, and he sees that Logan is shirtless, with every one of his ribs faintly visible under the tightness of his skin, and when Carlos leans a little bit, he can feel Logan's hipbones press lightly into his thighs.

-well, more than he already has, anyway.

"Be.. fore... Carlos, just get the fuck off me!" Logan groans, pulling his face out of his pillow to look up at Carlos with a threatening expression in his eyes. Carlos doesn't even flinch, because he's used to this- the fake anger and the hiding behind glares.

(This is going to be harder than he thought.)

**/**

_James wakes up and sees he's still in his bonds, he's still in the same place- but the lights are off._

_(But even in the dark, he can see their glowing eyes, hear their psychotic laughter.)_

_He feels a pang of dull pain in his torso region and sees that the stab wound on his stomach is still there, crusted and infected. He wants to reach out, run a finger along the wound that's honestly painful to just look at, but he can't, not with these bonds restricting him and it's the worst mental tic he's ever had. It __**hurts**__, it hurts so badly, but it doesn't matter how badly it hurts because he can't do a damn thing about it._

_James reaches out with his mind, imagines a pair of arms around him and leans into the invisible touch, wishing so badly that it was real. But it never is, never has been, even when he lived under the same roof as them. He still wishes, though. But that's never gotten him anywhere, especially not now, when all he wishes for is just to be back home, far, far away from the demors haunting this dungeon and far far away from this stupid carnival._

_Slowly, the lights turn on._

**/**

"No. Logan, please just tell me what I did.." Carlos looks so vulnerable and sad in front of Logan, he almost believes it's real.

Almost.

"Stop acting like you care about me." Logan says, shoving his face back into his pillow and breathing slowly because it would look _really_ bad if he started crying with Carlos here.

"I'm not _acting_, Logan! I don't even know what I did to make you think that I don't care!" Carlos is quite the actor, Logan thinks. He would've made it pretty far on broadway. Too bad Logan's known him more than long enough to see through his charade.

"What? You don't remember not being able to handle my _bullshit_?" Logan spits the words right at Carlos, cracking his brittle shell. The terra cotta warrior recoils from the attack, both astonished and ashamed at the same time.

"H-how'd.. Oh.. Logan. Didn't you hear the rest of the conversation?" Carlos asks, exasperatedly. Logan snorts.

"As if there even _was_ a rest of the conversation." The starless haired boy mumbles, burrowing further into the crooks of the sofa cushions, prying apart Carlos with his voice alone.

"But there _was_, Logan!" Carlos says desperately, and Logan feels him shuffle awkwardly on top of him. "Yeah, I said we shouldn't care, but that's because I thought _you_ _**didn't**_! Not because I _actually_ didn't care." Logan feels a calloused finger poke into his side. "I do care, we all do. Honest, Logan, I was just having a moment of insecurity. I let the stress get to me, that's all. Please believe me.."

Logan stays motionless.

**/**

When James was five, his mother took him to Disney World for the first time.

They'd walked around the park, taking pictures with every mascot they saw(ooh, mommy, look, it's Pluto!), eating all the cliche foods, riding all the rides that James had wanted to.

They'd gone on Space mountain, with their blood pumping and adrenaline running as they looped and zoomed through the dark. "I don't like the dark," He said.

"Why?" His mom asked.

"Because you don't know what's in it."

They'd gone inside Spaceship Earth, mapped out their entire futures in one tiny screen. "Mommy, one day, I'm gonna shine," James had said.

"Like a Diamond." His mom agreed.

(but really, Diamonds reflect, so who was he kidding?)

It had been one of the best days of his life, and the first day of many that he'd spend under the Floridian sky, on rollercoasters and in parades. Because it was _Disneyworld_, the _Happiest Place on Earth_, wasn't it? Who wouldn't want to be happy?

_Who wouldn't want to be happy?_

**/**

Carlos fucked up, didn't he? He fucked up bad.. He should have never said those words about Logan- of course he cared, how could he not? Not caring about Logan was like not breathing for Carlos! And God knows he'd rather not breathe than not care about Logan- but alas, he was surely doing both right now- Logan just seemed to not believe the latter, or want him to do the former. All he wants is a second chance- a chance to prove to Logan he actually _does_ care, he does, he swears-

"Prove it." Logan shuffles out from underneath a startled Carlos, crossing his arms over his bare chest and making incredulous auburn to chestnut eye contact. Carlos nods eagerly, leans in.

_Contact._

**/**

When they were 17, James and Kendall got drunk for the first time.

They had gone to a club for the first time that night, too. Let in by the easy bouncer at the door, not stopped by the bartenders, not blocked by the sluts and whores that practically inhabited the bright atmosphere. They were young, they were free, and they took advantage of it. All night, they danced. Across beams of strobing lights and intoxicated from ambrosia, they danced. Kendall danced his way around James, James danced his way around Kendall. They intertwined, they did, and they appreciated every touch, every burning brush of skin on skin.

Touches turned intimate, grazes turned to more and soon enough, James and Kendall spent half the night liplocked in a supply closet.

The next day, they woke up with limbs woven close and their hearts even closer. But even despite the closeness, the newfound connection, they never spoke of it after that, they pretended to forget.

(but with each misplaced stare, each accidental touch, every strained word- they both know that they're never going to forget.)

**/**

When the lights turn bright enough for him to see, James looks in the same corner of the room, both terrified and curious as to weather he's going to see the same mutilated face as before, or something new.

When his sight adjusts to the darkness, James is appalled to find _two_ silhouettes standing motionless. One of them is definitely the same one as before, and the next? He's not even sure what it is. It looks buffer than the mutant mouse-like creature beside it.. it's taller.. more..

canine-esque.

**/**

Logan hasn't slept well in ages. Not since he ditched the Cargan bedroom for the couch, not since he's had to spend every night in stone-still, faux apathy, with the cold biting his skin and crawling inside him to sleep. He hasn't slept well for weeks, months even. So it's a huge surprise when he wakes up feeling refreshed and, for once, not crawling with anxiety.

It's an even _bigger_ surprise, however, when he feels a pair of muscular arms wrapped firmly around his waist, a pair of warm lips gently ruffling the hair on his left side. Logan freezes, slowly looks over to his left and sees a slightly smaller, slightly more buff human being snuggled up against his side. Along with the fact that they're both half naked, Logan thinks he has a clue of what happened last night- memories of foggy-clear bottles and heat between the covers flash brightly behind his retinas.

Oh yeah, he thinks, looking at Carlos. He definitely knows.

(the problem is, he couldn't regret it enough.)

* * *

**a/n:** and now you know i'm scared of mickey mouse.

also i feel exceptionally anxious because i made a stupid post on tumblr and i think i may have gained like 3 anti-me-ers because of it ;_; #beStupidFeelBad


	9. infiltrating

**a/n:** hi guys! sorry i took so long lol

but i'm on break which means i can update more often YAY

anyway, before you read this chapter, **RE READ CHAPTERS SEVEN AND EIGHT.**

just trust me, ok? you probably forgot everything. xD

_They tear him apart, the demons do. With gnashing ivory blades in their withering snouts and white eyes open and rimmed flourescent red, they shred him to pieces. James is awake for the entireity of it, has to watch and feel as the stuff of his childhood strips his flesh away, watches as the red ribbons fall. The entire time, he's making eye contact with them, their unnaturally round eyes bore into him with small pupils. James can't handle it, he's not capable, and yet, he does- he has to._

_He doesn't know how he survives the torture, the constant sight of his innards exposed for him to see in all of their bloody, pus-encrusted glory._

_(But each day they come, he gets through it, wishing all the while he would die. But on the multitude of drugs they inject into his bloodstream, he couldn't be more alive.)_

**\**

Kendall loves James, he does- or, he _did. _He loved the leaf-green memories, the smell of crisp cologne and the feel of well-maintained skin. He's not really sure how he feels about this new James, the one who's hair is matted with sweat, the one who's heart can be heard galloping from the end of the hallway, the one who doesn't look anything like himself anymore. It's beautiful, sure, it is- pretty and beautiful in a shattered way, that whole cliche of being broken artfully. But mental cases aren't really Kendall's thing, and the more he tries to convince himself he still loves this James, the more he realises it's not true.

He _was_ in love with James, with the imagines burning bright in his mind- but now, all that's left is an idea, and Kendall has no clue what to do with it.

**\**

"Carlos," Logan begins slowly, already feeling the cosmic energy building behind the walls of his lungs, pressurepressurepressure in his chest. "What happened last night?" He's trying not to panic, he's trying to keep his voice steady, even, but he can't, who could after waking up next to your best friend in bed?

"Uh.." Carlos says sheepishly, staring into Logan's eyes with uncertainty ignited behind his whiskey irises. Logan looks down in time to see Carlos' hand move towards his own and sharply snatches it away before he has the chance to feel the burning sensation of the contact. The tanned boy before Logan looks straight at him and slowly retracts his hand, looking slightly hurt and maybe a bit battered by Logan's reaction.

"I think.. Maybe we got drunk?" Logan stares fiercely into Carlos for one seems like minutes, searching the depths of coffe-stained eyes for a spark, a scintilla, any change that would alert him to fabrication. But Carlos just stares right on back, a sea of whiskey calmly rolling deep within his returned stare. The paler one looks away, dark eyes skittering wildly as he sees the past and the future both at once. He hears Carlos sigh exasperatedly, but doesn't look back up.

"Logan, you're the smart one, you should know this. Not me."

"No, Carlos." Logan groans, burying his head in his hands. "The problem isn't that I don't remember." He gets up and faces towards the window, and Carlos admires the way the sunlight jumps in gold beams off his skin, the way that when he runs his fingers through his amber-coloured hair, it refracts silver light all over the room.

"It's that it shouldn't have even happened."

**\**

The first time James tries to escape, it's easy.

Too easy.

_He wriggles the tips of his fingers through the rough ropes holding them down, agonized by the fact that the only reason they slip through is due to the lubrication from his own blood; He slides himself out of the large belt binding his torso to the table, and winces as the leather and metal scrape over his gaping wounds. With his heart about to beat out of his mouth and his larynx suspended like a frog in his throat, James puts his foot down on the ground, wobbling slightly because it's been hours? Days? Months? Years, even? - since the last time he'd had the pleasure of being able to walk. He looks around wearily, thumpthumpthumpboomboomboom and slowly takes another step._

_Nothing happens._

_It's completely silent, not a single movement in the room save for the gentle to and fro of the small hanging lamp fixed to the ceiling. James watches as the pale cone of light projected by it sways slowly along the floor, a visible column of mesmerising rays that only make him more alert._

_He takes another step._

**\**

**"DISNEY PARK CONSTRUCTION HALTED AFTER LOCALS REBELLION KILLS MASCOT"**

Carlos looks at the screen in disdain, his pupils quaking from side to side as he rapidly reads the long excerpt. Kendall bites his nails agitatedly, bouncing up and down slightly as he waits for Carlos to read the article. As he sees his friend getting lost in the reading, Kendall looks down and notices his friend gently stroking lines down the length of his own sweater sleeve, but the green eyed boy thinks nothing of it.

"So?" Kendall presses. The shorter of the two reaches up unsurely and scratches the back of his neck with striped sleeves too long, looks down at Kendall and sighs.

"I don't know, Kendall. It looks like it's a real source, but.. voodoo? You actually think this could be true?"

"It's the only thing I could find, Carlos!" Kendall's eyes widen exaggeratedly as he speaks, and Carlos notes the wild fear burning in them. "I _have_- **We **have to find something that proves James was right, otherwise he'll end up... you know where he'll end up."

(It's right then that Carlos realizes, Kendall must really, really love that boy with hazel eyes.)

And it's true; having spoken to the doctors earlier, they'd explained to them(all of them, from Katie to Lucy and Logan) that James was probably(_probably_, Kendall scoffs) undergoing dementia from the trauma he experienced of being 'lost in the jungle'. If his mental state didn't pick up soon, their best option would be to institutionalize him.

Kendall called bullshit on that.

_"He __**told us**__ what happened!" He snaps, stepping forth and staring the old doctor straight-on with a fierce jade gaze. "It's not our fucking fault if you don't believe him, but don't give us that __**'he's insane'**__ crap."_

_James is hooked up to an IV, still in bed, fast asleep. The doctors had sedated him because of a particularily bad panic attack that he had had(as if they weren't _all_ bad) where he ended up almost rupturing a vein, so he was asleep in an awkward position, with bandages wrapped around his arm. The room is dark, but not dark enough for Kendall to see the doctors expression of pity directed straight at him._

_"Sir-" The doctor begins, but Kendall hears none of it._

_"No! If you guys are going to be this shitty at your own job, then don't even bother trying to help him at all." He turns on his own heels and walks out of the room, leaving smudgy cloudy scuff marks on the linoleum._

"Kendall, if this is true," Carlos starts slowly, careful not to set off his temper, "You should probably look more into it." He enunciates, uses an adult voice, because they're in their twenties now- they're falling apart at the seams, sinking through the cracks of their own immaturity, and it's about time they start acting their age. "What's this newspaper called? We can look more into it."

Kendall turns and stares at the screen. With a furrowed brow, he points out, "It's in malay or something. I don't know, I can't read it."

"Google translate?"

"I can't, it's a picture." Carlos frowns and turns away, pacing a little bit.

"Okay, we can't read it.."

"But you know someone who can." Kendall points out, tipping his head in the direction of the living room. Carlos sighs and nods.

"Yeah, probably."

"Well?" Kendall asks incredulously, shoving him off. "Go! James isn't going to end up in the whackhouse because of us, okay?"

And off he goes. As he walks away, he hears Kendall mutter, "I hope."

**\**

"James?" Kendall begins awkwardly, standing in the doorway of the tiny room, shifting his weight from side to side and looking everywhere but the blood-stained bedsheets, the tear-stained cheeks, the sun-stained hair on James' head.

Kendall feels, doesn't see, but feels James' gaze settle on him- he can feel the confusion and apprehension reverberating towards him in epileptic waves. He walks towards the bed. Time lapses, stutters, lapses. It's surreal, the time stretch. Every millisecond is a decade, and Kendall is old and prune-like by the time he sits down at the edge of the bed, staring at the floor.

"I.. we should probably talk."

"About?"

"What happened."

**\**

_James slowly walks to the edge of the room, doing his best to ignore the steady cant of pain shooting up his leg and back down again, searing every nerve ending in it's wake as it climbs along. He has a hand wrapped tightly around his burned, scarred, scabbing, bloody torso and the other on the small of his back. He creeps along the edge of the room, looking for a door, and sees one across the room. He begins to make his way towards it._

_The shadows move behind him._

\

"You think I'm lying, too?" James immediately puffs up, pushes his back flat against the headboard behind him and stares at Kendall with dark, blown pupils.

"No, James. You know what I'm talking about."

"Oh. Uh, actually I don't."

"Oh." Kendall still hasn't looked up. "Um.. nevermind then, I guess." He can see James smirking out of the corner of his eye, sees his thin pink lips stretch out into a pleasant curve. "What?" He asks incredulously, and James shakes his head.

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Fine." Kendall snaps, turning his head completely away so he can't see James' reaction when he says, "Remember that night we got.. eh.. slightly intoxicated?"

"You mean the night you got so wasted that you puked in Camille's purse and then threw it at me?" Kendall cringes, but a smile crosses his face. He leans slightly and puts out his arm to support himself, feeling the curve of the thin bedsheet right next to James' body, feels as the warm heat just out of his reach shuffles slightly closer.

"That's not the memory I was talking about, but sure, we can start there."

"Oh, were you talking about how we spent half the night making out in the back bathroom?"

"I'm pretty sure it was a closet."

"I'm pretty sure you were shitfaced drunk." James retorts mockingly, and Kendall doesn't respond- he just flops down next to James unceremoniously, shuffling on the bed so that he's curled up away from James. He's careful not to touch him- not to feel the twin sparks of lust and guilt that ignites whenever he does so. James' confused and tired gaze doesn't bounce off Kendall- it burns through his skin, eats away at his insides and then passes through.

Kendall writhes under it's heat.

**\**

One month.

Thirty-one days exactly.

All gone down the drain.

(along with his self-confidence and a flurry of carmine, too.)

**\**

_His fingers clasp the doorknob tightly, shakily; he slowly twists it, relieved at the way that it's almost silent as he does so. This is it, he thinks. He quietly pulls the door back and steps through._

_**Freedom.**_

_(only, it's not.)_

_It's dark, but James just assumes that it's nighttime. Cautiously, he makes his way forward- not noticing the way that the door clicks shut behind him, the way that the sky is starless, moonless. He creeps forward, both drunk and high all at once; his mind an overload of _I'm out, I'm **actually** **out **_ringing through his head. He keeps walking until he bumps into something. It must be the gate, he thinks. He reaches out and feels it up and down for a knob-_

_it moves against him._

**\**

"A-anyway.." James shuffles away from Kendall, and the burning sensation fades. Stealing a glance upwards, Kendall sees James staring at the ground, much like he was earlier. "What about it?"

"Do you ever think about it?"

"I- I mean," Kendall tries to cover up his verbal fumble, but really, how are you supposed to cover up an impulsive outburst like that? It wasn't like James didn't hear, the way his head snapped towards Kendall and his mouth dropped slightly was enough to make it obvious. "Like, because it was signifi- um, I mean because it was impo- we never talked about it, okay?! And I never knew weather or not to bring it up or not-"

"Kendall."

"And even if I did, what if you said that you had only done it because you were horny or something?! Because I've liked you for a really _really_ long time and I don't actually want to know if you're up for doing it again-"

"Kend- wait, you what?"

**\**

"Wait, what do you mean?" Carlos is sitting cross-legged on the couch, staring up at Logan with an unreadble intensity in his eyes. "Are you saying that the entire time we made out, you knew we were going to have this conversation?" His voice is sharp and icy and slick and it rubs Logan the wrong way. "You _knew_ that it didn't mean as much to you as it did me?"

"Look, Carlos-" Logan's not entirely sure why he's talking so sweetly- maybe it's the broken look on his face, the dejected tone of his voice or the way he's glancing down with this expression like he's trying to be angry, like he's not in love with Logan and that it was just a one-night stand went wrong.

(Well, that's what it was for Logan, anyway.)

**\**

"Oh, Shit, James, I-" Kendall looks up at the heartrate monitor and cringes as he sees James' heartbeat increasing by almost double.

"Kendall." Even though he can talk, James' heartbeat is still too quick for Kendall's liking.

"Don't freak out! I mean, you've already got a lot of stuff on your plate, and I probably shouldn't have said that, yeah, but at least you haven't rejected me or anything yet! I mean, I don't actually know if I still like you or not but-" The beeps got faster, louder- "No, don't freak out! James- I- oh my god." Kendall is panicking with him now, his breathing is quickening and he looks around frantically(everywhere but James).

"James, should I call a doctor? Where's the button-y thing?" He leans forward, hovers over James and feels around on the side of the bed for the pager button.

"Kendall, I'm fine." James says slowly, pushing Kendall off him. The beeping intervals slow down considerably, and when Kendall finally looks over at James, he's wearing a weird expression- something between shock and confusion and amusement. He doesn't know what it means(he knows what he _hopes_ it means), but he's pretty stoked that James isn't actually having a panic attack like he'd thought. James smiles at him, slightly teasingly, and Kendall grins back in embarassment.

"Do you still want to talk?" His expression is serious now, and Kendall recoils from it- he's seen that expression too often for his liking, and sobriety is not a good look on James. Well, everything's a good look on James, but sobriety is kind of a cold beauty that scares Kendall more than it entrances him.

"Um," Kendall's gaze darts to the monitor and back to James' face. "No. No, I'm good. We can talk later."

**\**

The trip back to the apartment is filled with 'why did I do that's and 'i can't believe i told him's for Kendall, and it's not that fun, so when he gets back home, he's glad to be away from the mental torment and the drama of normal life.

Except, he isn't. This becomes apparent when he approaches the door, has the key inside the lock and suddenly he hears-

"Yes or no, Logan?" It's Carlos' voice, and he sounds.. different. Angry. Not in a joking way, but in a genuinely hurt way. Kendall's eyes narrow. He loves Logan, he loves Carlos, too, but if Logan hurt Carlos enough to make him deflate so badly that Kendall can literally hear the difference.. that wasn't okay.

"Carlos, I-" Pause. "I love Kendall, okay? Or- I mean.. I like him a lot-"

Wait, what?! No, God no. Kendall steps back from the door, prepares to run off and hide(all he does is hide) but as he's deciding which way to dart off to, the door swings open to reveal a very upset looking Carlos, who pushes past him before a single thought can fall out of his mouth. Logan shows up not too long after, and as soon as he makes eye contact with Kendall, his jaw drops and he wordlessly turns back and darts out of sight. Sighing, Kendall walks in after him and shuts the door behind him.

This was going to be a long day.

**\**

(This time, Carlos cuts just a bit too deep.)

**a/n: **EVERY SHIP THAT HAS EVER EXISTED EVER IS GOING TO BE IN THIS STORY

I CAN _FEEL IT_


	10. waiting

**a/n: **read the last few chapters and then this one if you haven't already

* * *

"Wait.." Logan pauses, his brows furrowed in confusion. "If the actual article is in english, why is the title of the newspaper in malay?"

Kendall runs a hand over his face, flustered. He knows Logan's the suspicious type, the type to question everything even if it doesn't actually need questioning, and that he can't help it- but right now, Kendall's the _desperate_ type, and he would really adore it if Logan shut up and actually did what they had asked him to do. Since the night they had found James(the 'flagrante delict-**no**', as he'd sardonically dubbed it), Logan had really just been someone Kendall wanted to avoid, but, being roommates and all, it was near-impossible.

So nowadays, he resorted to spending all of his time at the hospital with James. He felt guilty as shit because of it, though, because he knew how Logan felt about him- he just chose to turn the blind eye and look away from it.

(he could still hear the cracking, though.)

It was also an issue that James was due to be discharged from the hospital in about a week- his physical wounds were healing very nicely, but the doctors were still trying to figure out weather it would be safe(ugh) to send him home with a good dose of antidepressants, or weather it was better for him to stay in the mental health ward of the hospital until his destructive panic attacks were at least controllable. Kendall knows it's selfish, but he doesn't want what's _best_ for James, he just wants _James_, weather he's broken into a thousand pieces or breaking apart from the inside out, he just.. _wants_.

Logan, on the other hand, seems to just not be able to leave well enough alone, shooting icy glances at Kendall that inflame him with guilt, tainting his veins with kerosene and sending splintering shards of chaos straight through him. It hurts like fuck, but it also hurts because Kendall knows he's never going to return the feelings, not with James around- but if James had stayed missing, he probably would have gone for it. And that's what hurts the most, right? Knowing that as the unspoken leader of their little group, Kendall was the one who was being the most selfish- he'd do anything to fill the hole inside him, and if the people he tried to make fit there _didn't_, hell, he'd just **make them**.

Something tells him Logan would take a lot of mutilation to make fit, and Kendall still doesn't know if he'd be able to stand him.

"I don't know, isn't that your job to figure out?" Kendall snaps, not bothering to look in Logan's direction to see the damage he inflicted. When he hears nothing but silence in response, he assumes he struck him pretty hard, but still doesn't look, not when he feels Carlos' accusing gaze boring into him, not when Logan's heartbeat increases to an intensity where he can actually hear each strained beat.

"It's a good point, though. Why isn't the entire paper in malay?" Carlos quips, leaning on the back of Kendall's chair and staring closer at the text.

"I mean, logically speaking, it probably was." Logan drabbles, leaning over Kendall's other side(with_out_ touching him) and scrolling down the page, scanning everything. "The grammar is a bit off and there's some unnatural wording. It looks like someone translated it, and whoever did was obviously in a hurry."

"Well, what's the newspaper called?"

"Mm," Logan hums. He has his phone out, he's tapping away on it with diligence, and it takes a few seconds, but then he says, "It's called 'Penang Times'. That's.. off."

"Isn't Penang in Thailand?"

**\**

"You know, even though we should probably talk about this, I'm cool with pretending it never happened, so.." Kendall fiddles awkwardly with the hem of his too-big hoodie, shifts his weight from side to side, trapped between the neatly painted sides of the Cargan doorway. His emaciated ex-bandmate is nothing but a small lump in the navy blue covers of his own bed, the only thing allowing Kendall to distinguish him from Carlos(who looks incredibly similar in the same position) is the curl of starless hair poking out from the opening of the cocoon. "I'm gonna go back to the living room, okay? Um.. if you wanna talk.. we can... but.. yeah, I'll go." He backs up a few steps, waiting for a response from the oddly quiet teen. All he gets is a loud sigh and sees the black wisp disappear into the depths of the duvet.

Well, okay then.

Kendall mimics the sigh and walks out, closing the door behind him.

Man, that was awkward.

But he knows that it's probably nothing compared to what's going to happen when James gets back.. Ugh. Kendall slinks over to the living room and curls up on the couch. All broken hearts and unrequited feelings aside, he's still worried about both Logan _and_ James- Logan for obvious reasons, like the fact that he was basically rapidly shrinking before their eyes, and James for even more obvious reasons, like he'd apparently been mauled by a ten foot tall satanic rodent, and that they had no leads on how that could have happened, not to mention no leads on weather or not it was even true. Obviously he hoped it was, because the alternatives wouldn't be good- not for James, not for anybody.

Kendall curls his fingers into his palms into the cuffs of his hoodie, and tucks them into his chest.

All he wants are his friends back, but instead he's stick with three souls eaten away by the forces of their own acid.

**\**

"No, dumbass," Logan chastises, not even looking up from his phone. "It's Malaysia."

"Great!" Kendall grins toothily and gets up from the office chair, quickly pushing Logan in his place and ignoring the awkwardness of the contact. "Now find the original article and translate it!"

"Kendall, we already have a translation, though. Voodoo blah blah, remember?" Carlos is looking at Kendall like he's insane, which, maybe a little, but his ability to fight the hysteria is phenomenal.

"Yeahhhh," Kendall draws out the word, raises his eyebrows at Carlos like he's the fool for stating the obvious. "I _know_, but Logan said there was something off about it. Maybe they left something out- Something _important_?" He presses, staring pointedly at Carlos. The clay-skinned boy just shakes his head and scoffs.

"Isn't this kind of a waste of time?"

"Nothing's a waste of time if it's going to help us keep James from rotting in a cell!"

"Look, Kendall, I get tha-"

"Guys." Logan interrupts. "Who says I'm even going to do this? It's three freaking pages worth of malay, and quite frankly, I'm not sure I owe either of you anything." Which, yeah, maybe, but Kendall thinks Logan at least owes _James_ something- right? Carlos opens his mouth wide, looks like he's about to yell at Logan; but instead of saying anything, he just goes silent.

"Logan, look. You've _got_ to do this."

"No I don't."

"Yes, you-"

"Yes you **do**!" Carlos snaps, staring at Logan with an intensity in his eyes that was scarcely seen outside the hockey rink.

Logan pauses, staring at Kendall, Carlos, Kendall, Carlos with an unsettling glint in his eyes(-fear?). "Fine," He says simply, turning back to the computer and planting his fingers on the keyboard.

"For James."

(for james.)

* * *

**a/n: **First person to tell me what endgames these are gets to make them happen.

AKA i have no idea where the ships in this story are going so if you guys have an OTP _speak now _because I would rahter just be told what to do then try and do something to please you guys. xD


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